Women on the Home Front (158 page)

It had one of the best views over the town, and a garden that would be no trouble, but the best bit was that it had central heating from a coke boiler-cum-cooker in the kitchen, heating the radiators. No more coal fires to make every day. All mod cons, and far away enough for neighbours not to see your smalls on the line.

Now all that was left was to see the girl wed and settled, sort out the rental with the others and let them get on with it. But first there was the royal visit to attend to.

Walter and his mother had invited Esme and Lily for tea to discuss all the final arrangements for the wedding day. Sitting across from Elsie Platt was not one of life’s joys and Esme admired Lil for taking on that harridan.

If ever there was a home without warmth and welcome this was it, Esme thought, sitting perched at the end of horsehair with a smoking fire and that sour smell of boiled vegetables up her nostrils. She grimaced. All the corners of this front parlour could do with bottoming out.

‘This time next week, Lil, it’ll be your big day. I wish our husbands could be here to share your joy,’ said Elsie. ‘Only a widow knows what it’s like to be unwanted, alone without that someone special to care for your needs.’

‘I’ve done my best, Mother,’ Walt smiled.

‘I know, son but a son’s a son till he gets a wife, a daughter’s a daughter all your life. Isn’t that so, Esme?’

‘I hadn’t quite thought of it like that,’ Esme said, looking to Lily with raised eyebrows. ‘Think of it more that you’ve gained a grand lass in Lily rather than lost a son.’

‘But when he’s gone, who will see to me?’

‘Happen you’ll have to see for yourself as I have all these years since Redvers went to his rest.’ Esme’s hackles were rising now.

‘With respect, Esme Winstanley, your circumstances are different from mine. I hear you’ve bought a brand-new bungalow, out of town. You don’t have to make ends meet like I have, all these years.’

‘Mother…’ warned Walt.

‘No, you listen to me,’ Elsie continued. ‘This wedding is an expense, with all those guests we don’t know to cater for. You two’ve got your little cottage out of earshot. One day it’ll be me as is found at the foot of the stairs and no one will know I’ve gone to my Maker,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m too old to be left to fend for myself’.

‘Elsie Platt, you’re younger than me by a long chalk. None of this self-pitying talk. Young couples need a fresh start and no interference from us until they ask for it. These two have waited long enough-years they’ve waited-so don’t go spoiling their day. It’s not fair!’

‘What’s not fair is my son being wed to a house full of foreigners with babbies. It didn’t take him three guesses to know who their father was…You Winstanleys are no better than the rest of us. My poor son’ll have a wife who wants to work outside the house
and gad about with her friends, day and night till all hours. I hear they can’t cook a square meal between them and they were all fighting in the street. I don’t know how you put up with it.’ Elsie folded her arms across her ample bosom. The first salvo had been fired across the bows.

Esme was not going to take these insults sitting down. She rose up and stared out of the window. The nets were a disgrace and the aspidistra was covered in dust.

‘What I put up with is my business! I’ll have you know my girls are capable and kind-hearted, like Lily here. You should be grateful she’s taking your spoiled son on. It wasn’t my wish to see her throwing herself away on a lazy loon who’s never done a decent day’s work in his life!’ She hoped this blast would meet its target.

‘Don’t you call my Walter lazy. It’s not his fault he has no bones in his back.’ Elsie was wagging her finger and spitting feathers of fury.

‘I rest my case,’ Esme replied. ‘Spineless, and you’ve only yourself to blame, Elsie Platt.’ Gloves were off now.

‘Don’t you go calling my poor fatherless son names! At least he’s never given me a minute’s worth of trouble, not like
some
sons I could mention! At least he’s not fathered a pair of bastards!’

‘Don’t you dare mention my sons in the same breath as him.’ Esme pointed a gloved finger at Walt. ‘They fought for King and Country. One died in His Majesty’s service. What did he do in the war but get under everyone’s feet?’

‘Stop this, both of you!’ Lily screamed. ‘I can’t stand
any more of your sniping, Elsie Platt. It’s not you I’m marrying but him. I know what I’m taking on. You’ve made him what he is and I don’t want any interference from either of you!’

‘Well, that’s told us then, hasn’t it?’ Esme sighed, but she had to hand it to the girl for once. She was sticking up for her own. Pity he wasn’t much of a trophy.

There he was, sitting hunched up, miserable, his ears sticking out like jug handles, his body sagged down with embarrassment. What did the lass see in him, Esme thought. It was going to need some firm handling to lick him into shape.

‘I think we’ve all said enough,’ Esme said, plonking her cup of weak tea on the table and wrapping her cardigan around her shoulders, feeling a shiver go down her spine.

So it was out then: all their dirty linen was hanging on the line for everyone to see. Who’d spilled the beans?

‘Lily, I want a word with you. What’s been going on?’

‘It wasn’t me, Guide’s honour, Mother,’ Lil stuttered as they were driving home in comfort for once. The black Rover saloon was now in regular service, warming up for the big day.

‘Ask Levi what happened. Ivy insulted my friends and she spilled the beans in the park. She let rip as only she can. The rest just happened. Maria had a score to settle and settled it. Don’t worry, none of my friends will say anything.’

The more Esme heard the worse it was getting.

‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to. The sooner I’m on way out the better.’

‘Now you sound just like Ma Platt,’ snapped her daughter. ‘I’m sick of all these secrets in the family. Better out and dealt with. Now you’ve made things bad for Walt and me.’

‘You can’t mean to marry that drink of water in there. You can do better than the Platts. It’s not too late to call it off.’

‘Will you give over, harping on about Walt? Yes, I’m going to have to rescue him from all this mollycoddling, find him an osteopath to sort his back, get him some nice clothes to wear, but he’s
my
mission now, a full-time job. I can’t nurse everyone’s wounds when I’ve got him to sort out. Underneath he’s a nice chap-weak, I admit-but as the saying goes, “Aisle, Altar, Hymn”.’

‘If you really believe that, young lady, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.’

They drove the rest of the way home in silence.

The spaghetti was bubbling and the sauce ready to serve. There was the usual crush in her flat but Maria was glad of company. Diana was looking at her watch, Queenie kept peering out of the curtains and Lily was falling asleep,
la povera.
She should be at home getting ready for the big day.

When she had married Marco she had not slept for a week with excitement, sewing her lace dress and veil. She looked wistfully on the wall at their portrait. It was another lifetime ago. Now there was new life in her belly, life she didn’t deserve, a gift that would take a lifetime of penances to give thanks for.

Everyone was jumpy and chattering when she was just out of earshot. Were they talking behind her back? Had they changed their minds about her? Without the Olive Oils she was lost.

This meal she was preparing with love and gratitude. Ana had brought broad beans from her allotment and handfuls of mint to make a paste. She had found chopped nuts and fresh berries to add to the fruit sundae. Food had brought them all together and soothed their anxious times. How could she ever thank them? But they were ignoring her now, smiling to each other. What was going on?

‘Lily? Wake up! Last-minute nerves?’ Maria was bending over her. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll all be there to see you off.’

‘I don’t want—’

There was a loud rapping downstairs, a thundering on the café door.

‘Wadda you want now, Enzo? Forget his head if weren’t stuck on,’ Maria yelled. ‘Shutta that noise, you wake Rosa. I’m coming.’

‘You stay here, I’ll go,’ said Queenie, waddling from the door down the narrow staircase. ‘I can see to it.’

‘Who is it?’ she yelled. ‘Tell them I’m out.’

Queenie puffed up the stairs with a strange look on her face. ‘There’s someone to see you, Maria.’

‘Bring them up then,’ came her reply.

‘No, I think it’s someone you might like to see on your own, ducks.’ Queenie was winking and smiling. ‘Go on down.’

‘I go but why they can’t come uppa the stairs?’

What was all the fuss about? She turned for the stairs and looked down.

‘Santa Maria!’ From inside her came a scream, an animal howl as she clattered down the wooden stairs. ‘Sylvio!’ She galloped down into his arms.

The rest was a rattle of Italian, hugging, kissing with a passion.

The girls were all grinning, peering from the top of the stairs. ‘Thank you, thank you, everybody! How you find my Sylvio? You bring him back to me!’

She wrapped herself round his body with delight, kissing him as he clung to her.

‘I didn’t know, I’m so sorry. What has happened?’ Sylvio wept. ‘It is a miracle. I go to confession. I tell him everything and he say, are you Sylvio Bertorelli?’ He turned to the tearful faces. ‘How can I thank you?’

But they had already found their coats and hats, making their way down the stairs, leaving the couple to a private reunion.

The Olive Oils had triumphed so why was their passionate coming together making Lily feel so sick, so envious, so emptied of hope for herself?

‘We did it then,’ she sighed.

‘You
did it, Lily. That trip to the church must have done the trick. I think the Italian Mafia is alive and well, praise the Lord! Time to be on our way. We’re not needed here.’ Queenie winked and skipped on the linoleum.

‘Your turn for joy next, Lily,’ said Su.

‘No, I don’t think so, not like that,’ Lily sighed wistfully.

The sight of those lovers clinging together like limpets clawed at her insides making her feel queasy. They were like two halves of a whole, separated and now back as one. Together they’d sort things out, find a way through the coming tunnel of disgrace into a place of their own in the sunlight, safe from the gathering storm. Lily wished she hadn’t seen them.

I should be glad for them, rejoice in their coming together, in them finding each other, she raged. What was wrong with her then? Why was she so put out? Her own wedding day was at the end of this very week, a new beginning to look forward to. These feelings were ridiculous.

Pull yourself together, Lily Winstanley. What are you thinking of?

There was no need to answer that question. She made her excuses and left.

After making a quick exit, the leftovers of the Olive Oil Club found themselves outside Santini’s in the deserted street. It was a warm Sunday night, hardly dark yet, only the screech of the swifts overhead broke the silence of the Sabbath. Nowhere to go and nothing to do, and no one wanted to play gooseberry on the young couple in the flat upstairs. They needed to be alone.

‘We can go window shopping,’ suggested Su.

‘What we would have, if we could have but we can’t…What’s there to see that we haven’t seen a hundred times? Windows full of cardboard cut-outs, posters promising stuff we can’t get hold of-what’s the point?’ snapped Lily.

‘Who trod on
your
toes?’ said Queenie. ‘I thought you’d be chuffed the two of them have found each other again and it’s all your doing?’

‘I am, I am…’

‘So?’

‘Nothing, nothing you’d understand. I’m fed up, tired out, but I don’t want to go home yet.’

‘It’s late, Lily. You need your beauty sleep,’ Su offered. ‘We must catch the bus.’

‘You go on. I think I’ll walk for a bit, clear my head.’

They walked on ahead, leaving her dawdling behind with Queenie and Diana. Soon Ana and Su and the others were out of sight.

‘Do you really not want to go home yet?’ said Queenie, her warm brown eyes scanning her friend’s with concern.

‘No.’

‘So what’s this about? Tell Auntie Queenie. Last-minute nerves?’

‘I need a drink, a large one.’

‘But you don’t drink,’ said Diana. ‘I’ve never seen you touch a drop, except a bit of wine when we have supper.’

‘I need something to get me on my way and cocoa won’t hit the spot.’

‘Are you sure? Everything’s shut now but I know a little club we can go to, down a back street,’ Queenie said. ‘I’m not sure it’s your sort of place but women go in there and don’t get bothered. Arthur’s taken me in there once or twice.’

‘Lead on, Macduff! Are you coming, Diana?’

‘Trust a Londoner to know the dives of Grimbleton better than a native! I’m intrigued. Lead me into temptation,’ she laughed.

They slipped down Cheapside, past warehouses and office blocks, turning into a side street, hidden from view until they came upon a scratched sign which said
‘The Coal Hole’ on a painted door. A surly man nodded them through, down into a cellar with steep stairs.

It was like going into the underworld, a secret tunnel under Grimbleton, a subterranean world Lily never knew existed. She felt a flicker of nervousness but it was too late to turn back now.

Women didn’t go into public houses-not respectable Winstanley women-but she was curious to see who was in the smoky twilight world, sipping beer, listening to a man tinkling tunes on the piano, a man she recognised as one of Levi’s infamous customers from the market stall. She could smell the perfume of the wonder weed in the air but said nothing.

‘I’m not sure this is quite what I wanted, Queenie.’

‘Don’t worry, you can get a cup of tea if you like. I know Paddy’s wife, Sadie. We do her hair. She’ll see you all right. You’ve led a sheltered life, girl. If you’re going into the travel business then you should know that every town and city has its secret dens, dives and boltholes. Grimbleton’s no different from London, just on a smaller scale, that’s all. You can get anything here if you know who to ask.’