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by Michelle Magorian

  ‘I don’t usually tolerate G.I. marriages,’ one woman had muttered to her friend on leaving, ‘but Ivy Woods deserves to be happy.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ said her friend. ‘She’s had enough tragedy in her life. If that American makes her happy, then I approve.’

  ‘Approve?’ whispered Rusty angrily to herself. Any-one’d think American soldiers were the pits. They’d been in the War too and got killed!

  Since Rusty was restricted to the house and garden, she attempted to help out with the visitors but, as soon as she opened her mouth, they gazed at her in astonishment. Rusty did her best, offering to make them some of that horrible tea they all liked, with powdered milk. But they just nodded politely and said, ‘That’s very kind of you, dear, but no thank you.’

  Beatie saved her. Just when Rusty was at her loneliest, she’d say, ‘Come on, let’s go down to the jetty for a while.’

  Then they’d both sit there and chat, and Rusty would picture herself rowing and fishing on the river and Beatie would savour each ripple and colour.

  Rusty and her mother hardly spoke to one another. It was all Rusty could do not to disobey her and just disap- pear, but she knew that, if she did, it would spoil the wedding.

  Keeping her temper under control took so much energy and concentration that it was difficult to speak. At least with Aunt Hannah they could yell away until they’d sorted it all out, but answering back seemed like a crime to her mother.

  The wedding was a simple affair at a small church near the Estate. Although Rusty wore her best outfit with her bobby socks and saddle shoes, her mother seemed embarrassed instead of pleased, and even asked her to wear her cardigan with the buttons in front.

  The reception was held in Beatie’s back garden. Friends lent their white tablecloths so that they could be spread out along trestle tables. A tiered cardboard wedding cake rose above a concealed fruit cake. Rusty avoided eating it. She had seen what had gone into it... or, rather, what hadn’t. It was sugarless and almost eggless. Ugh!

  Beth was among the guests. Beatie sat them together, although Rusty could see by her mother’s face that she disapproved. Beth’s dress was a dowdy pale-blue affair with a muslin collar and muslin cuffs. There seemed to be no darts in it at all, so it billowed outward above the waistband and appeared rather sack-like.

  ‘I love your clothes,’ Beth said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t bother telling me about mine. This dress is ancient and it’s been fiddled around with so many bloody times, it’s a wonder it hasn’t fallen apart.’

  Rusty grinned.

  Beth caught sight of Peggy at the end of the table.

  ‘Oops,’ said Beth. ‘I forgot. I have to watch my language here. Your mother doesn’t like it.’

  Rusty shrugged. Her mother could go drown herself.

  ‘Everyone’s saying that the Japanese are going to surrender,’ said Beth. ‘We’re going to build a bonfire to celebrate. Do you want to help us?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Rusty earnestly, ‘but I have to get my mother’s permission first.’

  ‘Permission?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Search me. I guess she’s afraid of losing me. I don’t know why. She doesn’t see me much, anyway. She’s always fixing someone’s car.’

  ‘Oh dear. I’m afraid my mother’s car is one of the cars she’s always putting back on the road.’

  ‘It’s O.K. I’m getting used to it,’

  ‘Listen,’ said Beth. ‘It’s so hot, how about us taking my boat down the river after the reception?’

  ‘Great!’ said Rusty.

  ‘Bring a towel – then we can go swimming.’

  As soon as the reception had ended, Rusty approached her mother. ‘Mother,’ she began quickly. ‘Beth would like me to go in the boat with her, and for us to go swimming. Is it O.K.?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Uh-huh. When will you let me know?’

  She looked awkward. ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow! But I mean for us to go in the boat this afternoon.’

  ‘Virginia! That’s out of the question. It’s Ivy’s wedding day.’

  ‘She wouldn’t mind, would she?’

  ‘That’s hardly the point.’

  ‘O.K. So I can’t go today,’ said Rusty, still determined. ‘How about tomorrow, then?’

  ‘Tomorrow is Sunday.’

  ‘I know it,’ said Rusty. ‘What’s that got to do with me going in the boat?’

  ‘Look, Virginia, I’d rather you didn’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you could drown. If there was an adult with you, it would be different.’

  ‘But Uncle Bruno taught me to swim, my first summer. I’m a good swimmer.’

  ‘So you say, but I’d prefer it if an adult-was with you.’

  ‘O.K.,’ said Rusty. ‘S’pose I just go in the boat and I don’t swim?’

  Peggy felt confused. She wanted Virginia to have company, but it would be awful if she had an accident after five years of being away. Beth, who had been listening, stepped forward.

  ‘I can lifesave,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s hardly bloody likely that the boat will capsize, but if it does I can always plunge in and save her.’

  That did it, thought Rusty. Why on earth Beth swore so much, she couldn’t understand. She spoke such good English, just like they did in the movies, but she took the cake when it came to swearing!

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Disappointed, Rusty turned away. Beth walked beside her.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ she said sympathetically.

  They had just about reached the shrubbery when Rusty heard her mother call out to her. She swung round.

  ‘You may go in Beth’s boat tomorrow, but no swimming, mind,’ she said.

  ‘I promise,’ said Rusty, her fingers crossed behind her back.

  She walked on behind the shrubbery, controlling her victory exhilaration.

  ‘Thanks, Beth. It must have been your lifesaving experience that changed her mind.’

  ‘Balls,’ muttered Beth. ‘I don’t know anything about lifesaving.’

  8

  On Sunday it rained, and the boat trip was cancelled. Rusty was bitterly disappointed. Her mother left the house with the only decent umbrella.

  ‘It’s O.K.,’ Rusty had said, when permission had been refused for her to take a walk. ‘I don’t mind getting wet.’

  ‘I do,’ her mother had said politely. ‘We don’t want you catching a cold, do we?’

  ‘I don’t mind catching a cold.’ But her mother had simply shaken her head.

  Ivy Woods, now Ivy Flannagan, was no longer in the house. She and Mitch Flannagan were spending a brief honeymoon at a nearby cottage. Charlie and Susan played in the living room.

  If it hadn’t been for Beatie’s suggestion that they attempt to bleach the curtains, Rusty would have rampaged around the house all day, but Beatie had looked so cheered at the thought of not having black curtains any more that after a while Rusty became infected by her enthusiasm.

  They soaked one curtain in the kitchen sink, sprinted quickly up the stairs and threw it into the bathtub, where the bleach solution was made up. Once both pairs of curtains were immersed, they began stirring them around with wooden spoons.

  For the next hour, the two of them sat on chairs by the tub and stirred continuously as the rain pelted down outside. Occasionally they glanced down to check that the material hadn’t disintegrated, then went on staring out of the window and drifting in and out of conversation.

  ‘I thought they said on the radio that this was going to be a heat wave,’ said Rusty.

  ‘It’s only a shower.’

  Downstairs there was a loud knocking, followed by a yell. ‘Anyone at home?’

  ‘It’s Beth,’ said Rusty excitedly. ‘I’ll go ask her in.’

  Before Rusty could reach the bathroom door, it was flung open.
Beth stood in the little alcoved landing, her canvas cape dripping all over the floor.

  Rusty glanced down at her feet. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You have rubbers here, too.’

  ‘You mean my galoshes?’

  Beth peeled off the rubber shoes, revealing her sandals underneath.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Beth, eyeing the bathtub. ‘Your material’s losing its colour.’

  Rusty swung around.

  ‘It’s working!’ she yelled.

  They all leaned over the bath, mesmerized.

  ‘It’s like magic,’ exclaimed Rusty.

  Within minutes Beth had thrown off her cape and had joined in the stirring. The three of them whooped and yelled as the material slowly turned white.

  Charlie and Susan, who had become attracted by the noise, came flying up the stairs, and were soon swept up in the excitement.

  ‘Now,’ said Beatie. ‘We have to take it all out and rinse it thoroughly until the smell of the bleach is out of it.’

  Beth took her shorts and shirt off and stood barefoot in a faded pair of grey knickers.

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Rusty, and she stripped down to her white bra and pants.

  ‘Oh, envy, envy,’ said Beth, gazing at her. ‘I thought only rich models wore that kind of underwear.’

  Soon Susan and Charlie were down to their underpants too.

  They hauled the dripping curtains down to the large stone kitchen sink and rinsed and squeezed the voluminous curtains over and over.

  Rusty drew up two chairs for Charlie and Susan. She had never seen her brother look so cheerful in her presence. Sometimes she had watched him in hiding, and he had often made her laugh, but as soon as he caught sight of her he would frown and close up. Now he was as happy as a clam.

  ‘Squeeze, squeeze,’ he said, pushing his small hands into the material.

  Susan jumped up and down on the chair, laughing.

  Rusty lifted up a great clump of the material and held it towards them.

  ‘Take another sniff,’ she said. ‘Smell anything?’

  They all sniffed the material, and then Rusty pretended that Charlie was the material, and started sniffing him.

  ‘Say, this curtain’s got freckles on it. Guess we’ll have to put it back in the bathtub.’

  ‘I’m not a curtain,’ protested Charlie, giggling.

  ‘Hey, it talks too.’

  She scooped him up in her arms. Charlie began squealing.

  ‘And wriggles.’

  Susan leapt on to Rusty’s shoulders in a bid to save him.

  ‘A curtain just jumped on me!’ Rusty yelled.

  ‘You’re all bloody mad,’ said Beth.

  Rusty strode around the kitchen, jigging Charlie up and down, while Susan hung wildly on to her.

  ‘Ever get the feeling you’re being strangled?’ she gasped as Susan’s arms tugged on her neck.

  Beatie was leaning through the hatchway, watching. ‘I still have some of that powdered lemonade left,’ she said. ‘Anyone interested?’

  Susan let go of Rusty and landed in a heap on the floor. ‘Oh, yes!’ she shrieked.

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Curtains don’t drink lemonade,’ said Rusty firmly.

  ‘I’m not a curtain,’ said Charlie, pressing his nose against Rusty’s. ‘I’m a boy.’

  ‘So you are!’ said Rusty, feigning shock. And she put him back on the chair.

  ‘You know,’ she said, as they sat at the table sipping lemonade, ‘a ginger snap with this would make it just perfect.’

  ‘You could have a try at making them,’ said Beatie. ‘Only you’ll have to make them without sugar, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Don’t you just die for something sweet?’

  Everyone nodded.

  ‘Say, you could melt candy down, and use that.’

  Charlie buried his face in his glass, taking another sip of lemonade. He took a deep breath. ‘Got any gum, chum?’ And he and Susan burst into giggles.

  ‘Why are they cracking up?’ said Rusty.

  ‘Cracking up!’ repeated Susan, and again they collapsed with mirth over the table.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ said Beatie, ‘that sweets are rationed, too.’

  ‘So what do you do when you’re dying for something sweet?’

  ‘Bite into a bloody carrot,’ said Beth.

  When they had finished the lemonade, they stared out of the kitchen window at the rain.

  ‘You know,’ said Beth, ‘we might as well hang them up in it. After all, it would give them the final rinse.’

  ‘That’s a swell idea,’ said Rusty.

  ‘Swell idea,’ repeated Charlie.

  ‘Swell idea,’ added Susan.

  ‘You’re nuts,’ said Rusty to the little echoes.

  ‘Nuts! Nuts! Nuts!’

  chanted Charlie.

  ‘Here we go gathering nuts in May,’

  sang Susan,

  ‘Nuts in May, nuts in May,

  Here we go gathering nuts in May,

  On a cold and frosty morning.’

  ‘It’s August, dumbo.’

  ‘Here Ave go gathering nuts in August,’ sang Charlie, ‘nuts in August, nuts in…’

  Beth grabbed hold of him and squeezed her hand over his mouth.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘before these two have me up the wall and tickling the bricks.’

  At this Rusty threw back her head and collapsed into a chair.

  ‘Tickling the bricks!’ she shrieked.

  Beth shrugged, released Charlie, picked up one of the curtains and threw it at her.

  ‘Ugh!’ cried Rusty as it landed in her lap.

  ‘Come on,’ said Beth. ‘Let’s take it outside. We can wring it out there.’

  Within minutes of being out in the garden, they were soaked.

  ‘What’s the point of wringing it out here,’ asked Rusty, laughing, ‘when it’s raining?’

  Beth grinned and looked down at her drenched knickers, dropped the curtain in the grass, and peeled them off.

  ‘Oh boy, this is fun!’ said Rusty, and she undid her bra, took it off with her pants, and started to dance around.

  ‘I’m swimming in the rain,

  Just swimming in the rain.

  What a glorious feeling…’

  Charlie and Susan, who were watching from the kitchen, leapt off the chairs and fled out through the conservatory, leaving their underpants on the tiled floor.

  Beatie, who was up in the bathroom emptying out the bleach, looked out of the back window to see what all the noise was about. She leaned out and smiled. It was so grand to have children around.

  Downstairs, the front door opened. Beatie slipped back into the bathroom and on to the landing. Peggy was shaking a wet umbrella in the porch.

  ‘Quickly,’ urged Beatie from the top of the stairs. ‘Come up and see the children. Rusty and Charlie are actually playing together.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Oh hurry up. Don’t bother about taking off those overalls.’

  Peggy leapt up the stairs. Beatie drew up a chair by the bathroom window and leaned out, laughing. Peggy stood and rested her shoulder against the window frame. Unlike Beatie, she didn’t even smile. She was too shocked. It was only too clear that her daughter, like the Hatherley girl, was used to being naked. There were none of the patches of pale skin caused by a swimsuit. Nor did her daughter have the body of a little girl. Below her tiny breasts, her hips had already started to round, and fair traces of ginger pubic hair grew in a light triangle.

  ‘Aren’t they marvellous!’ said Beatie. ‘So full of life!’

  Peggy whispered a yes.

  She thought so much of Beatie, yet Beatie had such strange ideas about bringing up children. Looking down at the four of them shrieking and dragging each other towards the slopping bleached curtains, she couldn’t blame Beth for this naked display. She suspected it was Virginia’s fault. Still, she should never have allowed her to mix with the Hatherley gir
l. She was far too free and easy.

  She turned hurriedly away from the sight of her naked daughter dancing, strong-limbed and totally lacking in self-consciousness.

  ‘My overalls,’ she muttered, ‘are rather wet. I’ll go and change.’

  ‘Double, double dare you to jump off the jetty,’ yelled Rusty.

  They sprinted across the grass and over the vegetable patches.

  ‘Last one in’ s a donkey,’ panted Beth.

  With one yell they tore along the rough wooden planks of the jetty, leapt high in the air and tumbled, splashing, into the river.

  Charlie and Susan stumbled after them and stood at the edge.

  ‘Oh boy,’ said Rusty, surfacing, ‘this is the tops.’

  Peggy, umbrella in tow, marched up to the jetty. Charlie and Susan looked up and grinned.

  ‘Go indoors at once,’ she said. ‘You’ll catch your deaths of cold.’

  ‘Can’t we go in the water, Mummy?’ said Charlie. ‘Can’t we?’

  ‘Certainly not. Now go indoors.’

  ‘Don’t want to,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Don’t want to,’ repeated Susan.

  Peggy glared fiercely down at them. ‘You’ll get a smacked bottom if you don’t do as you’re told.’

  Susan took hold of Charlie’s hand and pulled him sulking back along the jetty.

  Rusty and Beth glanced at each other, treading water.

  ‘I think,’ said Peggy quietly, ‘you had both better get out.’

  She held out two towels. The girls hauled themselves up.

  ‘We were only having a little fun,’ said Rusty.

  ‘You have deliberately disobeyed me. I told you not to go out in the rain.’

  ‘You did not. You said I couldn’t go out walking in the rain. You didn’t say anything about dancing in the rain, or swimming in the rain, or hanging up curtains…’

  ‘That will do. Now cover yourself up with this towel before the neighbours see you.’

  ‘There aren’t any neighbours except Beth, and she’s seen me already.’

  ‘If I hear any more from you, you will go to bed without lunch.’

  Rusty snatched the towel from her and flung it on to the jetty. ‘You know what you are?’ she yelled. ‘A party pooper!’

  Beth suppressed a smile.

  ‘Virginia, if you don’t put that towel round yourself, you won’t be attending any bonfire night.’