Rose raised her eyebrows. ‘But look how wonderful those meals are. Trust me as someone who eats them every day, they are wonderful.’ She looked from Joyce to Annie. ‘That’s right isn’t it?’
Annie nodded. ‘You know we’ve always loved your food. This is a great opportunity for you to have a play and see what you can do.’
Arthur cleared his throat. ‘I think the girls are right. We just need to plan it; think through the options.’
Rose clapped her hands together. ‘Annie and I can help. You will just need to tell us what to do.’
Annie grinned from ear to ear. ‘And that’s not all. Rose is going to make her wedding dress.’
Rose paled. ‘Well, we don’t know that yet. I’m going to come up with some ideas because she doesn’t know what she wants.’ She turned to Joyce. ‘I know it’s daunting. I’ve never made a wedding dress before, so I understand how you’re feeling, but sometimes you have to grab the opportunities while they’re there and who knows where it could lead to.’
Arthur rested his hand on Joyce’s arm. ‘It’s a good opportunity, Joyce. I will help where I can. I think you need to come up with a menu of some sort, speak to Kitty and find out what she likes, if not what she wants. I’m sure you can make it work, especially with the help from your friends.’
Joyce turned to Rose and Annie. ‘When does she get married?’
Annie shrugged. ‘I can’t remember the exact date but it’s going to be at least a few months away. Rose has got a dress to make.’
Philip jumped up and ran towards Joyce. ‘I’ll help.’
A lump formed in Joyce’s throat. She bent down and kneeled in front of him. ‘That’s so very kind of you, Philip. I might well need your help.’
Philip looked up at her wide-eyed. ‘Does that mean I can’t go and see the chickens?’
Joyce sucked in her breath. ‘No, my sweet, it doesn’t. Uncle Arthur can take you, but not this time. I know that when you do go you’ll have a wonderful time. It will give me time to think about this wedding breakfast.’ She turned to Arthur. ‘I think waiting until the next time you go will be best; give you a chance to talk to Dot about it. That’s if the offer will still be on then?’
Arthur beamed at her. ‘Of course it is. Dot will love Philip.’
Annie frowned. ‘You don’t think it will be too painful for her, do you?’
Arthur stared at Philip for a moment. ‘It might be at first but I think he will give her great pleasure and help ease the pain that I know she still feels.’
Annie nodded. ‘Please promise me that you’ll bring him back if it gets too much for her?’
Arthur looked towards Annie. ‘Of course, I never want to do anything to hurt Dot ever again.’
Annie smiled. ‘I know, and I also know that you’d never deliberately hurt her. I don’t think you did before; you were just lost.’
Arthur studied the girls in front of him. ‘You all changed my life one way or another and I owe you a great deal.’
Joyce shook her head. ‘You made the decision. We were just here.’
‘Well, one day I hope to pay you back.’
Joyce smiled. ‘You’re already doing that.’
*
Mavis stood just outside the ward at St Thomas’ Hospital, clutching a telegram tight in her hand. Had she done the right thing in not telling Barbara about it? She was rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. Fear ran down her spine. Was she right to face this alone? She shook her head. She knew Barbara wouldn’t be happy with her, but this was something she had to do on her own. Mavis had to see for herself, without any pretence of being brave for her daughter’s sake. No matter how bad it got she had to have a moment with her son. Taking a deep breath, Mavis thrust the telegram back into her jacket pocket. She was luckier than most. At least her son was home and she prayed he felt the same. Stepping forward, Mavis pushed open the double doors of the hospital ward. Wrinkling her nose, she held her breath as the smell of cleaning fluids mingled with urine and blood. Several large windows along each side of the ward let in plenty of light. She glanced at the long wall of beds on either side, each one occupied, wondering which one Simon was in.
‘Can I help you?’
Mavis jumped at the sound of the gravelly voice nearby. ‘Oh, sorry, you made me jump. I wasn’t listening, too busy looking around.’
The nurse intertwined her fingers in front of her. ‘No need to apologise. It’s probably the flat black shoes we all have to wear. They don’t seem to make any noise apart from the odd squeak from time to time.’
Mavis nodded. ‘I’m looking for my son, Simon Hitchin. I understand he was brought here last night.’
The nurse pushed a wayward grey curl off her forehead before nodding. ‘Come over to the desk and I’ll have a look for you.’
Mavis did as she was bid, trying to ignore the sickness in the pit of her stomach. She concentrated on the ankle-length blue uniform dress and the long white apron the woman was wearing. Her high white collar, long cuffed sleeves and white headdress completed her outfit. There was no mistaking who the nurses were. It was calm on the ward. Men’s voices could be heard whispering to each other, respecting the sicker patients among them. Mavis only just avoided a collision with the nurse when she stopped walking. The nurse picked up a wad of crumpled paper from the desk and began to study it, flicking each page over in turn. It rustled as she smoothed it out and turned them over one by one. Mavis clutched the telegram in her pocket, the reminder her son had been sent home injured. He hadn’t been gone long but she was so thankful he was home again, no matter how bad he was. She took a deep breath. At least he wasn’t dead. She had to remain positive.
The nurse peered over her shoulder before turning round to face her. ‘Private Hitchin’s injuries are quite serious. It might take him some time to walk unaided again, but the doctor will explain more of that to you when he does his rounds. Your son is obviously feeling low, and as I understand most of his platoon didn’t survive the bomb attacks so with that usually comes guilt for the person who is on the road to recovery. In my experience he has difficult times ahead so don’t expect joy that he’s home because he will be suffering with grief, turmoil and guilt for some time to come. I don’t want to make light of this because some never get over it. Of course that’s his mental fight. His physical one will be learning to walk with a stick. His appearance seems worse than it is because of all the cuts and bruises, which will heal.’
The nurse paused. ‘I’m sorry to be giving you so much information but the more I tell you now than the less of a shock it will be when you see him, and that will be better for him. If I’m honest I’m trying to look after his welfare in the best way I can, so it’s important to try and stay positive with him. It’s quite common for returning soldiers in this position to feel their life is over, and it isn’t.’
Mavis’s eyes stung as she fought back her tears. She knew her boy would never be the same again. After taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. He was home and that was all that mattered.
‘Are you all right to go and see him, or would you rather wait?’
Mavis took another deep breath. ‘I’m ready.’
The nurse took a step forward. ‘He’s in bed six. I’ll take you to him.’
Mavis reached out and touched the nurse’s arm. ‘Thank you … thank you for all the information. It couldn’t have been easy for you.’
The nurse looked at Mavis. ‘None of this is easy for anybody, but the men are going through much worse!’
Mavis followed the nurse to bed six, keeping her eyes forward. She had no urge to look at other people’s suffering, and the groans were enough.
The nurse stopped. She stretched out her arm indicating the appropriate bed before pulling out a wooden chair for Mavis to sit on.
Mavis nodded her thanks and squeezed past her. She sat there for a moment taking in all the red welts and cuts that seemed to cover his arms and part of his face. ‘Hello, Simon, it’s your ma.�
�
Simon opened his bloodshot eyes and stared at her, his body still under the bedclothes. He gave a faint smile. ‘Am I dreaming, Ma? Is it really you?’
Mavis’s chest tightened as she tried desperately to control her emotions. Crying would come later. Her son needed her. ‘Yes, Simon, it’s me.’ She reached out to take his hand but stopped short because she didn’t want to hurt him.
Simon closed his eyes again. ‘It’s good to see you. I wasn’t gone long was I?’ He opened his eyes again. ‘Although it feels like a lifetime.’
Mavis reached out and gently rested her fingertips on the only part of his arm that didn’t look sore. ‘You’re home and that’s all that matters.’
Simon scowled at his mother’s words. ‘No, it isn’t, Ma; the number of men and boys dying is unbelievable. Some don’t even get out the trenches when we’re given the signal to go over. Ma, I’ve seen things no one should ever witness. I don’t know how men that survive months or years of it will ever come back to live a normal life again.’ He squeezed his eyes shut but they quickly flew open again.
Mavis didn’t know what to say. For the first time in her life she didn’t know how to give her son the comfort he so desperately needed. ‘Simon, we can only take it one day at a time … maybe an hour at a time. It’s small steps. I haven’t lived it and can’t begin to understand what you’re going through. I only have my imagination, but I promise to be with you every step of the way, if you let me.’
Simon gave a slight nod. ‘I’m so tired, Ma. Every time I close my eyes I’m back on the front line again. It was terrifying.’
Again Mavis didn’t know what to say to bring her son some peace of mind. ‘I know this will sound trite, and don’t mean it to, but try to put your mind in a happy place before you close your eyes. When your father died, I prayed for God to help me through that difficult time, to keep my family safe, and to guide me to help others who were grieving.’
Simon raised his eyebrows. ‘Having seen what I have I’m not convinced there is a God anymore.’
Mavis nodded. ‘I know. It’s times like these your faith is tested, but you have to remember this war is manmade. It’s greed and power, and that’s not the work of the Lord.’
Simon gave her half a smile. ‘I know, Ma, I know.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Talk to me about anything, anything at all.’
It was Mavis’s turn to frown. She had thought his first words would be about Joyce.
Simon slowly opened his eyes. ‘Ma, please don’t tell anyone I’m here, at least not yet.’
Mavis shook her head. ‘Not even Joyce?’
‘No one, please.’ Simon closed his eyes again.
13
Joyce ran her damp hands down the front of her apron and walked slowly towards the café kitchen door, glad the day was coming to an end. The air was filled with the aroma of coffee and cooked breakfasts. She pushed the door open and peered at the tables. Many of them were unoccupied; laughter suddenly came from three ladies sitting at a table by the window as they each balanced a piece of chocolate cake on their forks. She turned to look where Philip had been sitting and gasped. ‘Where’s Philip?’
She ran out and looked around café. ‘Barbara, where did Philip go? He’s not here.’
Barbara frowned as she looked around her. ‘I don’t know, I didn’t see him go. Are you sure he’s not in the kitchen?’
Joyce could feel her frustration growing as each second passed. ‘Obviously. I’ve been in the kitchen all day.’ Her heart was pounding. The pulse in her temple began to throb. She looked around her in disbelief. Why would he leave? She had thought they were getting somewhere. She thought he was settling in, albeit slowly.
The bell above the café door rang out as it was pushed open.
Joyce spun round with hope in her eyes. ‘Oh, Mavis, it’s you.’
Mavis smiled. ‘You could look happier to see me.’ She stood the shopping bags on the floor. ‘These bags are heavy today.’
‘Have you seen Philip?’ Joyce tried to sound calm as she stepped towards Mavis.
Mavis shook her head. ‘Maybe he just went for a walk. I expect he’ll be back soon. He’s a good lad.’
‘He’s five.’ Despite the warmth of the spring sunshine coming through the door Joyce could feel a shiver travel down her spine. ‘I need to go. Can you two close up? I’m sorry to leave but I have to go.’ She quickly undid her food-stained apron and pulled it over her head.
Mavis stepped forward. The bell chimed as the door closed. She rested her hand on Joyce’s arm. ‘Of course; don’t worry, Barbara and I will close everything up.’
Mavis looked to Barbara, who had remained silent. She nodded.
Joyce followed Mavis’s gaze. ‘Are you sure he didn’t say anything before he left? I don’t understand. He’s not walked out before.’
Barbara shrugged. ‘Maybe he just wanted to get out of here. After all, he’s here nearly every day.’
Joyce shook her head. ‘He could be anywhere. He’s just a child. Anything could have happened to him.’ She threw her apron onto a chair and sped towards the door. She had no idea where to start looking but couldn’t just stand around waiting to see if he came back or not. For once she didn’t hear the bell ring out as the door slammed shut behind her. Joyce just managed to step back at the last minute, at the same time as a lady moved aside. She brushed the arm of the woman as she rushed past the café, grateful she hadn’t bumped into her and knocked her over as she rushed out the door. ‘I’m sorry.’
The lady glared at her and carried on pacing along the pavement. The cars sputtered along the road, coughing out clouds of grey smoke as they went, drowning out the thud of her curved heels. She gasped. What if he’d been run over? The hospital wouldn’t know who to contact. Joyce bit down on her lip as she looked up and down the road, staring at the throng of people, as she tried to decide which way to go. Where would Philip go? She had to stay calm; otherwise she would never find him. In truth she didn’t know where to begin. Would he try to visit her grandmother in hospital? Would he try to go back to where he lived with his mother? Joyce sighed. Where to start? She didn’t know where he used to live and had no one who could advise her. Again, she stared up and down the road; maybe she’d go home first. Perhaps that’s where he’d gone. She turned and marched along Shaftesbury Avenue as quickly as she could, weaving in and out between people.
‘Joyce, Joyce, wait.’
The sound of her name being called finally penetrated Joyce’s thoughts; she turned around to see Rose half running towards her.
‘You’re in a hurry. I’ve been calling you for ages.’
‘I’m so sorry, Rose. Philip has left the café on his own and I don’t know where he’s gone.’
Rose took in Joyce’s pale features, wondering what she could offer to do to help. ‘Where are you going to look first?’
Joyce shook her head. Tears gathered in her eyes. ‘I don’t know where to start. I thought I might go home first and see if he got bored and just went home to see Arthur.’
Rose nodded. ‘That’s a good place to start. Well, at least it’s as good a place as any. I’ll come with you and if he’s not there then we’ll try and figure out where to start looking.’
‘Thank you, Rose, I don’t know where he’s gone and I’m so frightened that something’s happened to him. I’ll never forgive myself if that’s the case. I shouldn’t have let him stay in the café all day. It’s not a place for a five-year-old. He was probably so bored.’
Rose grabbed Joyce’s arm and pulled her round to face her. ‘Just stop, you stop that right now. This lad has been thrust upon you and you never really had a choice in the matter, yet you’ve managed to cope the best you can. I will not have you blaming yourself for this.’ Rose let go of her arm. ‘Come on, let’s get home, and then we’ll decide what we’re going to do next. Arthur might be able to help.’
Joyce sighed. Her resignation showed in her hunched shoulders and her pale tear-
stained face. ‘I don’t know what else we can do.’
They both sped towards Great Earl Street to see if Arthur had seen Philip. Joyce kept peering all around her, stopping every so often when she heard or saw a child. ‘I can’t believe he’s done this. How could he do this to me? Why didn’t he just tell me where he was going? Does he think I would’ve said no?’
Rose stopped in front of her. ‘You know you would’ve done. You would’ve said something like: “Wait until I’ve finished and we’ll go together”, or “We’ll do it tomorrow”. Whatever it is he wanted you would’ve told him to wait because you were at work. That’s not wrong, Joyce, but he clearly didn’t want to wait.’
Joyce shook her head. ‘I’m trying so hard. I wouldn’t mind but I don’t actually know what I’m doing. I just want him to be happy.’ She turned and looked at Rose. ‘Do you think he’s unhappy?’
Rose shrugged. ‘I don’t know what goes on in his head, but I’m sure he would rather be with his mother and father than with a group of strangers.’
Joyce nodded. She walked forward with Rose and a sigh escaped. ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right. That’s what I would want too.’
The girls carried on their journey home, not stopping to talk to anybody but keeping their eyes peeled in case they saw Philip.
Joyce pulled the key through the letterbox, with the usual rattling and banging but no one noticed. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. ‘Philip, are you here?’ Only silence greeted her and the fragrant smell of the hyacinth by the front door. She ran in and peered in all the rooms. ‘Even Arthur isn’t home. I wonder if they’re together.’ Fear gripped Joyce. Her chest tightened as her heart pummelled against her ribcage. Her eyes widened as she turned to look at Rose. ‘What are we going to do?’ Her voice climbed to a screech as she sobbed. ‘What am I going to do? I don’t know where to start looking. He could be anywhere.’
Rose grabbed Joyce’s arm. ‘We need to stop panicking and think. Is he likely to go to the hospital to see your grandma? Does he know your grandma is still alive? Is his mother still alive and if so does he know where she lives?’
Big Dreams for the West End Girls Page 19