by AJ Pearce
‘I’m so sorry, Anne. You said not to take any of his nonsense, but he wouldn’t listen. I’ve really let you down. All the talk about letters and marches. It was easy for me to say. I shouldn’t have let you risk so much. I’ll do everything I can to help you get another job.’
Anne was sitting bolt upright in an armchair at the other end of the room. I could hardly look her in the eye.
‘That man is a pig,’ she said. She was as pale as ever, but her cheeks were highly coloured and red blotches had appeared on her neck. She looked even angrier than she had earlier this morning.
‘How dare he?’ she said, her voice shaking slightly. ‘Don’t you dare apologise, Emmy. You aren’t the one who took her little girl into a factory. That is entirely on my head. You could have just written your articles and taken all the praise from the Ministry people, but you didn’t. You’ve shown more interest in our welfare in the last few weeks than Mr Terry ever will.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed Betty.
‘Well, damn Mr Terry,’ said Anne, which took everyone by surprise. ‘And his bullying.’ She looked around the room, her face set and her eyes almost black. ‘I’m going to bloody well march anyway.’
She stood up, as if she wanted to start right there and then.
‘All I wanted was to go to work. Look after the children and Mum, do my bit and pay my way. And I’m going to write it on a flipping sign and walk to the town hall, just as we had planned. I’ll leave the kids with Mum. She won’t need to know.’
I looked at the others.
‘Then I’m coming with you,’ said Betty. ‘You’re not doing it on your own.’
‘He’ll sack you, Bet,’ said Anne.
‘Not if I’ve resigned first.’
Marmalade had jumped onto Violet’s lap. She stood up, holding him to her chest.
‘I’ll be there,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk with you, too.’
I watched on. Betty was holding Anne’s hand.
Marmalade wriggled and leapt out of Violet’s arms, landing on the floor and arching his back. He strutted past Maeve and out of the room.
Maeve watched him, her lips pursed. Of everyone, she was the one with the most to lose. I could hear the children laughing in the other room.
‘No, Maeve,’ said Anne. ‘It’s too much of a risk. He will sack you too if you come.’
Maeve gave a little smile. ‘Can we all stay at Bunty’s if he does?’ she said, looking at me.
‘Every single one,’ I said, without a shadow of a doubt.
‘I’m only joking,’ said Maeve.
‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind it being a bit of a squeeze.’
‘Count me in, then,’ said Maeve. ‘I don’t like people who pick on my friends.’
‘You lot are mad,’ said Anne. Her eyes were full of tears. ‘Let’s do it then. Not just for me. Let’s do it for Irene as well.’
There were Hear Hears all round to that.
‘If it’s on the twentieth as planned, would it be all right if Bunty and I still come?’ I said. ‘We’ll stand with you or cheer you on. Whatever you want.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Anne. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ I said.
‘You can be the press,’ said Betty, looking inspired. ‘Take notes and interview us when we stand there, so people can see. That’ll make it look more impressive.’
‘Although we’re going to need someone to look after the children,’ said Maeve. ‘Would your mum do it, Anne?’
‘You could bring them with you,’ I suggested. ‘We said last time it’s really important you don’t look as if you’re trying to bring down the Government. What could be less threatening than a group of women with children and prams? Unless you think they’d be frightened or upset by it of course.’ I screwed up my face.
‘Mine will be fine,’ said Maeve. ‘They like a parade. We’ll tell them it’s a jolly to help get somewhere for them to play while we’re at work – bingo!’
‘Ruby loves a parade too,’ said Anne. ‘She did May Day this year and wore her little paper flower crown for days afterwards until it fell to bits.’ She stopped and thought for a moment. ‘Why don’t we do that? Make paper flowers for them to wear. It’ll be more of a carnival. We can wear them too and carry signs. No one will think we’re a group of troublemakers then.’
‘Anne, it’s perfect,’ I said. ‘If it’s all about being able to help the men win the war, and you have the children with you, no one will have any doubt about what you’re marching for.’
‘There’s nothing more patriotic than a kiddie in a flowery crown,’ laughed Betty. ‘We’ll have to take it in turns to carry Tony, though.’
‘I know, he’s a lump,’ grinned Anne. ‘He can come in his pram.’
As Maeve went to check on the children and the other women sat down again to re-start their plans, I watched quietly, joining in a little, but mostly deep in thought.
Often at work, when I opened letters to “Yours Cheerfully”, the readers referred to something a friend of theirs had said. They weren’t always complimentary, but invariably you knew that their friends were a central part of their world, especially with so many men now away. Whether it was Anne and the girls, or me with Bunty or Kath or Thelma, we were just the same. Sticking with each other through the best bits and the worst in the war, without even thinking – it was just what we did.
‘That’s sorted, then,’ said Anne. ‘Full steam ahead for the twentieth.’
There was a whoop from the bedroom and moments later, Ruby galloped into the front room.
‘Aunty Emmy,’ she cried. ‘Why are you here? It’s not our house.’
She bundled herself onto my lap.
‘I’ve just called in to say hello,’ I said, giving her a hug. ‘How are you, Monster?’
‘We’re getting a bun bun,’ said Ruby.
I looked at Anne.
‘I’m still not sure about that,’ she said. ‘But I’ve got the very next best thing.’
‘Is it biscuits?’ Ruby shrieked.
‘Better even than that,’ said Anne. ‘How would you like me to make you your very own crown?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A Surprise That Goes Wrong
THE JOURNEY HOME was long, with another extended wait due to a problem on the line, and not a sandwich to be had anywhere. By the time I got on the Tube to go down to Woman’s Friend, several nights of very little sleep together with the high emotions of the morning were beginning to have their effect. I wearily trudged into the office and began to put some work into my bag so that I could spend the evening catching up on my day spent playing truant.
Kathleen told me I looked as if I needed a decent rest, which I couldn’t disagree with, and I promised her I would be on far better form the next day. For now, I just wanted to go home, have a warm bath if there was any hot water, and then sit on the sofa and try not to nod off while I worked. I was also rather hoping Bunty might be cooking dinner.
By the time I got back to Pimlico, I was fit for nothing. It was well after blackout as I pushed open the front door and fumbled my way through the heavy curtain into the darkness of the hall.
To my surprise, music was coming from the drawing room. That was odd as it was a rather grand room and never used, mainly because it was far too big and always very cold. Billy Cotton and His Band were playing, and I could hear Bunty hooting with laughter, with what sounded like Thelma. They were joined by a man, whose voice I recognised at once as Charles’.
I’d had no idea he was coming. It was a smashing surprise at the end of a long couple of days and an immediate pick-me-up. I found the light switch, flicked it on and rushed down the hall, flinging open the drawing room door to greet them. The door though, didn’t fling, but walloped into the back of Bunty.
‘Ooof,’ she cried as she nearly went flying. ‘Oh, Emmy, it’s you.’ She sounded a little flustered.
‘Sorry, Bunts,’ I said. ‘Did I whac
k you? Hello, darling, what a lovely treat. Hello, Thelma. Goodness, what are you all doing?’
I looked round the room to see that some of the furniture had been pushed to the sides and several of the dust sheets removed. A gramophone had been set up on a side table and several empty glasses sat beside it. To my travel-weary eyes, quite a party appeared to be taking place.
‘I popped in to talk about food,’ said Thelma.
‘Darling!’ said Charles very brightly. ‘I was just leaving,’ which was a peculiar greeting. ‘I had a meeting in town so called in as a surprise. I’m so sorry I’ve missed you.’
He came over and kissed me.
‘The trains were up the spout,’ I said.
‘Charles helped us move the furniture,’ said Bunty. ‘So we could see if it will work for your reception.’ She was flushed. ‘I may have overdone it,’ she added and then laughed.
I couldn’t quite see the joke. ‘Right ho,’ I said. Entirely unreasonably, I felt cross that I hadn’t been there, and then I realised I was being petty and felt even crosser at myself for that. ‘Well, it looks as if it will. Work, that is,’ I managed, flatly.
‘How did it go?’ asked Charles. ‘Shall I get you a drink? Come and sit down, darling, you look worn out.’
He was being quite lovely. Interested in my work, concerned that I was tired. But I wasn’t in the mood for drinking, and the last time we had spoken it had been to talk about him going off to war. A cheery greeting and Shall I Get You a Drink, as if I had turned up late to a cocktail party, didn’t sit agreeably with me.
‘I wish I’d known you were coming,’ I said, churlishly. ‘It’s a shame it had to be today. Still, you’ve had a jolly time, I see.’
I was trying to say that I was disappointed I hadn’t been able to see him, but instead I sounded like a spoilt brat. Bunty and Thelma looked slightly awkward. Charles didn’t say anything.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘Charles, did you say you have to leave?’
He looked at his watch. ‘I really should,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry, darling. I rather hoped you might be here.’
‘No, I was being shouted at by a Factory Director who wanted to call the police,’ I said.
Anyone nice, or possibly less tired, would have been pleased to see him having fun with their friends. But I didn’t feel nice.
‘Sorry,’ I managed.
‘Actually,’ said Charles, ‘I’ve got some good news. That’s why I wanted to see you. I rather hope you’ll like it.’
He had the broadest smile and was looking both chuffed and excited at the same time. My grumpy heart melted.
‘Thel, shall I put the kettle on in the kitchen?’ said Bunty, diplomatically.
‘You might want to hear it as well,’ said Charles.
‘It must be good,’ I said, feeling much cheerier. ‘But I really have to sit.’ I pulled a dust sheet off a fancy antique chair and plonked myself down.
‘Well,’ said Charles, ‘I won’t drag it out any longer. I’ve just been over to St Gabriel’s and managed to see Reverend Lovell. This is the good part. He said if I can get us a licence, he can marry us before Christmas.’
Charles was absolutely right. It was the very best news. The last remains of my crossness disappeared entirely.
‘Darling, that’s wonderful. Thank you!’ I cried, throwing myself into his arms and kissing him. Now I knew why he looked as if he had just won the Derby.
Bunty and Thelma, meanwhile, were cheering loudly.
‘When?’ I asked. ‘We need to tell everyone. What’s the actual date?’
‘It’s the last Saturday before Christmas,’ said Charles. ‘A festive wedding and with a bit of luck, people will still be able to come. What’s the matter?’
‘Saturday the twentieth?’ I said.
‘That’s right. Two o’clock. And I’ve managed to get a seventy-two-hour pass so we can even have a honeymoon of sorts. That’s not by the book at all, but the CO has been terrifically decent.’
I didn’t know what to say. He looked so very happy.
But there was no way to dress things up.
‘That’s the day of the march,’ I said.
Charles’s face fell.
‘But it was cancelled,’ said Bunts.
I shook my head. ‘Not now. They’re going ahead. I’ve just promised Anne I’ll be there as a reporter.’
‘It didn’t enter my head,’ Charles said. ‘That’s rotten luck. I’m afraid Reverend Lovell said that was the only time we could possibly have.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Em, I’m so sorry but I really do have to go.’
Rotten luck?
That did get my goat.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you out.’
‘I’ll tidy up,’ said Bunty, who seemed far more aware of the enormity of the situation than my fiancé.
‘I’ll help,’ said Thelma quickly. ‘Cheerio, Charles.’
He said Cheerio back and followed me out, shutting the drawing-room door behind him.
When I handed him his coat from where he had hung it up in the hall, he didn’t put it on, but instead, tucked it under his arm and fixed me with a stare.
‘You are going to come?’ he said. ‘To our wedding.’
‘Of course, I am,’ I said, crossly. ‘That’s a silly thing to say. Anyway, I don’t have much choice. I’ve just missed a fleeting chance to see you and I don’t know how many I’m likely to get. So if a wedding is the only way to make sure we get more than five minutes together, I suppose that’ll have to do.’
I winced as I said it. Even if it was the truth, I sounded bitter. It wasn’t an attractive trait.
Charles took it on the chin but didn’t rise to it. Instead, he tried to be placatory. ‘I know it’s not easy,’ he said. ‘My job never is.’
I wondered if I was being slow on the uptake. He was so pleased about managing to bring the date forward and I knew I should have been thrilled about it as well. I tried not to be unreasonable, but I couldn’t help but think of the morning’s events.
‘Well, at least you have a job,’ I said. ‘I’ve just come back from a group of people who probably haven’t.’
I was already wondering how I was going to tell Anne about not being at the march.
I’d promised them, ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t miss my own wedding.
‘Em, I’m really sorry about the date,’ said Charles. ‘Truly. But now that the Americans are involved, and the Japanese are causing chaos, everyone’s plans have gone wild. I’m pretty sure we’ll ship out before the New Year. Darling, I could be gone in two weeks.’
That was a punch in the gut.
‘So, if we can’t do the wedding on that date . . .’ he began.
‘Of course we will,’ I snapped. It came out angrily which wasn’t how I had meant to say it at all. Gone in two weeks. It made me feel sick.
Charles sighed heavily. ‘Look, I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, but could you go to the march first?’
It was a decent enough thought, but impossible. ‘I’ll never get back in time,’ I said. ‘It’s taken me nearly three hours today, and that’s on a weekday. Don’t worry. I’ll tell them I won’t be there. They’ll be fine.’
It wasn’t true and he knew it.
If anyone had ever sounded less enthusiastic about setting a wedding date, I was yet to hear of them. I hated myself for that. But I hated myself almost as much for letting Anne down.
‘I’d better go,’ said Charles, dully. ‘If I miss this train I’ll be put on report and then I won’t be going anywhere.’
I didn’t dare say a word.
He shoved his arms into his greatcoat and shrugged it on. Then he stopped and we stood staring at each other until I sighed and shook my head.
‘Thank you for trying,’ I said. ‘Don’t miss your train.’
Charles nodded. He couldn’t look less like a man who was marrying someone he loved.
‘I
’m sorry the surprise hasn’t been what I hoped,’ he said.
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I didn’t say anything.
Charles picked up his cap from the hall table and gave me the briefest of kisses on my cheek.
Then, as I didn’t say goodbye back, he walked to the door and was gone.
*
I had watched Charles carefully pull the blackout curtain behind him and then listened as he shut the front door, wishing all the time that I could somehow find the will to raise my voice and call out, ‘Goodbye.’ But it just wouldn’t come.
I walked slowly back to the drawing room and tried to gather my thoughts. Just a few hours before, I had raged at Mr Terry, in part inspired by the thought of my boy going off to war. And now, when that same boy had made a lovely effort to surprise me with a new date for our wedding, I had hardly managed to agree to turn up. I couldn’t blame that on just being tired.
Bunty had turned off the gramophone and was now smoothing a dust sheet over a chair. She turned round as I came in.
Thelma had put her coat on. ‘I’ll get going, love,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry about tonight.’
‘It’s OK, Thel,’ I said. ‘Sorry you got dragged into it.’
‘See you soon,’ she said, giving me a concerned squeeze on the arm. ‘Bye, Bunty. I’ll see myself out.’
As Thelma left, I sat down, put my hands over my face and shook my head.
‘I’m sorry, Em,’ said Bunty. ‘It must have looked as if we were having a beano while you were having an utterly rotten day.’
It was her way of excusing me for being so off.
‘It wasn’t that,’ I said.
I looked around the room, trying to find the right words. With its tall Georgian windows permanently curtained and all the furniture in shrouds, it wouldn’t have been out of place if Miss Havisham had been sitting in the corner next to a mouldy old wedding cake. Despite that, I knew the room would soon be transformed. A ton of elbow grease would bring it up to scratch and it was easy to imagine it filled with festive trimmings and even more festive family and friends celebrating Charles and me getting married. I should have been the happiest girl in the world.
‘I just wish he’d checked,’ I said, finally. ‘Am I being horrible, Bunts? Oh, it’s not just the fact it’s now an awful clash with the march, although that’s bad enough.’ I grappled with how to explain. ‘Now that Charles has sorted a new date he’ll go back to his billet, back to planning how to head off with the chaps to goodness knows where, while you and I will re-arrange everything so that the day is still lovely and then he will leave and all I get to do is wait here and hope that one day I might be lucky enough to see him again.’