Throwing back the covers, she padded down the stairs where she couldn’t escape memories of Billy. Moving into the large familiar kitchen she made her way to the gas oven. By the light of a silver moon that shone through the window, she turned on the knob of the oven and opened the door. May sat on the cold linoleum floor, and taking out the shelves, she placed her head on the oven floor.
Hearing a hiss and smelling poisonous gas, her mind screamed no. Her last thoughts should be of Billy. His melting, dimpled smile; how handsome he looked in his khaki uniform, his ambition to travel the world and–– as if a switch had been turned, May’s thoughts paused. She choked, coughing and coughing until she retched. Sense taking over, she withdrew her head, sat up and decided she wanted to live. Not for her mother, the poor soul who would find her daughter dead in the morning, or her son, but for Billy. She couldn’t bear the thought that he would blame himself for her demise. She couldn’t spoil his life in such a way, when all she wanted was for him to be happy.
20
March 1943
‘Coal, gas and electricity are all rationed, so what d’you think’s next?’ Etty asked Norma who sat in her sturdy high chair, made by Trevor in Newman’s workshop.
Etty had read in a women’s magazine that speaking conversationally to your child helped them with speech and vocabulary.
She continued, ‘In February, rice and dried fruit were added to the list, not that you were affected as you’re not keen on either, are you? In fact,’ she scooped food from the plate onto a teaspoon, ‘there’s not much you do like eating these days and Mammy is fraught with worry.’
Hair smattered with vegetables, snot dangling from her nose, the bairn turned her head from the spoon of food proffered as if Etty was trying to poison her.
Etty knew so little about kiddies that she sometimes felt Norma was teaching her, rather than the other way around. Today, she tried to feed her solids but the bairn had a mind of her own, and refused to eat. The pair of them sat at the kitchen table, Etty pretending to eat mashed carrot from a spoon, making a suitably delighted face.
‘Mmm! See… Mammy likes it.’
Norma, unimpressed, lashed out and swiped the spoon out of Etty’s hand.
‘Why, you naughty little thing,’ she snapped.
This brought on a fresh onslaught of howling.
With all the broken nights, Etty was exhausted. She felt at the end of her tether, cooped up in the house for days thanks to the wintry weather.
The war news didn’t help brighten her mood, either. Last month it was reported that after a week of battle, the Empire of Japan now occupied Singapore.
Etty shook her head. Eighty thousand Allied troops had been taken prisoner and Mr Churchill was reported to have said that it was the worst disaster in British military history. Fear crept over Etty – they were all mothers’ sons and she wondered how folk coped with such heartache.
She looked fondly at her child, with her blonde curls and striking blue eyes. Even when she cried, Norma was a delight. It seemed incredible that in those first few weeks when Etty had suffered the blues, she had doubted her maternal love. Norma was precious and Etty loved her more than life itself. At the terrifying thought of losing her child, Etty realised that in this uncertain war-torn world, anything could happen – and a chill shivered down her spine.
The unlocked back door opened and Nellie appeared. Norma, still hollering, swivelled her head.
‘What’s wrong, pet? Granny’s here to make it better.’
Norma stopped yelling and gave Nellie a two-tooth grin.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ Nellie averted her eyes from Etty.
‘She won’t eat.’
Nellie chucked the bairn beneath her chin. ‘If Norma doesn’t eat…’ she spoke in that irritating baby voice she used, ‘she won’t grow up big and strong.’
Norma clapped sticky hands together.
Nellie picked up a clean spoon from the table and proceeded to spoonfeed Norma who – wouldn’t you know – ate without a whimper.
‘By, she’s all there, is that one. She knaas how to get her own way.’
Etty ignored the implication.
The two women had called a truce and only spoke when their paths crossed. This was the first time in a long while that Nellie had ventured downstairs and Etty had Trevor to thank for that.
He’d put his foot down, telling his mother to stop calling at bedtime because they were trying to get Norma into a routine. Her face puce, Nellie had sensed determination in her son, because, for once, she hadn’t argued, turning on her heel and storming out of the flat.
Thrilled that he’d stood up to his mam, Etty noticed other changes in Trevor, too. He became interested in Dorothy’s welfare and didn’t object to the times Etty visited her. He even did odd jobs around Dorothy’s flat and Etty was thrilled to see this caring side of him emerge.
The few times Nellie called, Etty tolerated her, as she saw no reason to cause trouble – as long as the she behaved, that was.
Etty liked the bairn to experiment with a variety of tastes and today’s addition was mashed peas. Sampling a spoonful proffered to her, Norma made a disgusted face and spat the peas on the floor.
‘What’s this muck you’re giving her?’ Tasting the food, Nellie pulled a similarly revolted face that made Norma giggle.
‘For goodness’ sake, Mrs Milne, don’t encourage her… she’ll think eating’s a game.’
‘Don’t talk tosh, woman… she’s only a bairn. I bet she’s got a sweet tooth like her da and wants a pudding.’
‘After she eats her dinner.’ Etty was firm.
Nellie muttered something under her breath.
‘She said what?’ Dorothy’s face was a picture of disbelief.
‘That I was an apology for a mother.’
Late afternoon in March, the sisters were taking Norma for a walk in the pram. They’d walked through Westoe Village and were treading the path that led through the allotments to the sands.
Dorothy stopped in her tracks. ‘I hope you gave as good as you got.’
‘I told Nellie, apology or not, I was Norma’s mam and what I say goes. Then I told her, politely, to hop off.’
‘Good for you.’
‘The thing is, the little tinker howled when her grandma stormed out.’
They both laughed.
Though perishing cold, the day was bright and sunny, and the sisters, bundled up in woollen hats, mittens and scarves, took the sandy track past the bridge over the railway line, that led to the dunes. A bracing sea breeze brought colour to their cheeks and it felt good to be alive.
Etty took a sidelong glance at her sister. For weeks now, Dorothy hadn’t been able to sit still, and perhaps that was why she stayed slim even though she was pregnant. If only she could lose the purple bruises from beneath her eyes and the haunted look that pulled at Etty’s heartstrings.
To Etty’s dismay, because of her sister’s fragile health, Dorothy had worked up until she was six months pregnant at a local factory that had once produced civilian clothes but now made uniforms for both men and women. Until Laurie’s financial affairs were settled, she had no other means but her wage.
‘It’s light employment,’ she told Etty. ‘Besides, it keeps my mind occupied.’
The sand on the path grew deeper, spilling over the top of Etty’s shoes so she could feel it between her toes. In the distance, coils of barbed wire prevented them from reaching the beach.
Etty, pushing the pram, found it easier to haul it backwards through the sand. Shouts came from towards the beach and soldiers wearing khaki uniforms and carrying guns with bayonets crouched behind the dunes.
‘They’re carrying out exercises,’ Etty whispered. ‘I think we should go back.’
‘Our brave boys…’ Dorothy, mesmerized, commented, ‘They are watching over us in case of a sea invasion.’
Without warning, her face crumpled and she sobbed. ‘Bloody, bloody war.’
E
tty left the pram and rushed over. Instinctively, she knew this was what Dorothy needed. She held her sister in her arms. Dorothy’s sobs turned to great gasps that made her shoulders heave.
When finally, she stopped, Etty handed her a handkerchief.
Dorothy, pink-eyed, blew her nose. ‘It still hurts like hell,’ she said in a quivery voice.
Etty realised that the brave face her sister put on was all a front. ‘I know,’ she said, doubting if she really did.
‘In my worst moments I still want to join him.’
‘It’ll get easier, I promise.’
Dorothy looked stricken. ‘I don’t want to be healed of missing Laurie.’
The wind whipping up, sand swirled in the air, and the surf could be heard pounding on the shore. From the beach came an occasional male shout.
Dorothy looked pale and drawn and Etty’s impulse was to do anything she could to help. Her thoughts turned again to the idea she’d had the day they’d discussed their father.
Without thought of consequence, she blurted, ‘I’ve made a decision… about Mam.’ Dorothy’s head jerked up. ‘I’m willing to try and find out what happened to her.’
Dorothy’s eyes widened. ‘Because of me?’
‘Partly… but I want to know the truth too.’ Her confession surprised herself.
‘How will we go about it?’
‘You won’t be doing anything.’ Etty’s tone was firm. ‘I’ll start by trying to find Aunt Lillian in Beach Road. If that fails, I’ll look into seeing if I can find the Grubers.’
‘Any other time,’ Dorothy’s voice held an edge of frustration, ‘I would leap at the chance to help find Mam. But you’re right, I haven’t got the stamina just now. I’ll stay home and look after Norma while you go. But Etty…’ she clapped her hands on her cheeks in delighted disbelief, ‘I really do appreciate what you’re doing.’
Emotionally spent, her eyes welled up, and sniffing hard, she laughed through her tears. ‘Poor child, look at Norma… she’s wondering what’s going on.’
Peeping over the top of the rain canopy, transparent blue eyes watching her aunty, Norma’s face crumpled.
Dorothy forced a smile. ‘Ah, pet, everything is all right. See.’
Etty prayed that her sister was right.
Trevor had worked the night shift and after a few hours’ sleep he’d headed over the road to the Newmans’. The bairn, awake after her afternoon nap, played happily with a china-faced doll in her cot. Etty, busy ironing, was grateful for the peace. She’d made a pie out of the last of the bottled rhubarb and the pleasant aroma of cooking pastry wafted in the air. Content, a sense of wellbeing enveloped Etty.
As she paired Trevor’s socks at the kitchen table, Etty heard the backyard door rattle. The door slammed. Footsteps clumped up the yard and the scullery door squeaked open.
‘Anybody in?’ a male voice boomed.
Billy!
Etty’s heart started hammering. She smoothed down the folds of her skirt, checked her auburn hair in the mirror and ran her fingers through the waves.
‘You’ve got a cheek, coming here.’
Beneath his army greatcoat, he looked thinner and his cheeks were hollow but – blast – he was still as handsome as ever.
‘I’m like the proverbial bad penny.’ His face wore a cheeky grin. ‘Can I come in?’
‘No, I’m expecting Trevor home any minute for his tea.’
‘Go on. We’re not up to anything… more’s the pity.’
‘I’ve told you. No. Trevor might catch you.’
‘Crikey, Etty. Don’t you ever have people call? One of the reasons I’ve popped in is to say I’m sorry to hear about your brother-in-law.’
Etty relented. ‘Two minutes, then.’
She pulled back her shoulders, held her head high and marched into the kitchen. Billy followed.
She turned to face him. ‘Why else are you here?’
Billy cocked his head, listening. ‘Is that a bairn grizzling?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Yours?’
Nervousness stabbed Etty and she didn’t know what to say. ‘I… asked you why you’re here.’
‘First off to say I was sorry about Dorothy’s husband, he was a good bloke by all accounts.’
‘The best.’
He didn’t explain how he’d heard about Laurie and she didn’t ask. She had more worries pressing on her mind.
He stalled.
‘It’s… over between me and May.’
‘I heard.’
‘It’s for the best.’
‘The best for who? She’s broken-hearted.’
‘She’ll get over it. She still writes and tells me what going on.’
‘You’re heartless, Billy Buckley. You’ll never find anyone as selfless as May. She worships you.’
‘That’s the hard bit. But she’s handling the break-up better than I thought.’
‘Hah! Your male pride is wounded! Serves you right.’
He grinned lasciviously. ‘Seriously… it’s you I want.’
She had to ask him. ‘You didn’t finish with May because of me?’
‘She told lies to try and keep me.’ His face clouded with disgust. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Etty was flabbergasted that he should think May a liar.
It occurred to her that Billy was incapable of staying faithful to anyone, and she doubted he’d ever change. ‘You only want me because I’m forbidden fruit.’
‘It’s always been you since the first time we met.’
He leaned forward and made to kiss her but she stiffened and pulled away. Yet she still didn’t trust herself.
‘It’s only a matter of time,’ his voice sounded peeved, ‘before I’m posted abroad. Will you wait for me? How about we do a moonlight flit and move to make a fresh start?’
‘I’m married, Billy.’
Norma’s plaintive cry came from the bedroom.
Etty mentally shook herself. She stared at Billy – really looked at him, noting his arrogant gaze.
She made a decision. ‘The baby that’s crying… it’s yours.’
‘Not another one. Ha ha, very funny.’
‘This is no joke, Billy.’
Disbelief registered on his face and something akin to fear.
‘But we only––’
‘Did it once. I couldn’t believe it either.’
‘And I’m definitely the…’ at the look on Etty’s face, he improvised. ‘I mean, it could be hi––’
‘It’s yours. Trevor knew I carried another man’s child––’
‘And he still married yi.’ He pulled a bemused face.
When Etty didn’t reply, he continued. ‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’
‘It wasn’t appropriate. You were engaged to May. I considered it my problem.’
‘I had a right to know.’
This was true. Why was she telling him now? Etty honestly didn’t know… save, maybe, to see his reaction.
‘Would you have left May? Played happy families? You professed you didn’t want kids.’
Norma wailed and Etty made a move to go to her, before turning to Billy. She had to clarify something first.
‘This plan of yours,’ she said. ‘Does it include your daughter?’
He blanched.
‘Give us time, Etty, I’ve just found out.’
‘In other words, no.’
‘Hell, Etty, don’t put words in me mouth. It’s not a definite no. Until this very minute I didn’t even know she existed.’
‘Her name is Norma.’
Billy stared blankly at her. Maybe, Etty thought, she’d told him because she wanted to put the record straight for her daughter.
‘It wouldn’t be fair traipsing a kiddie around…’ His tone was half-hearted. ‘We could settle first and then send for… Norma.’
As if their daughter was a parcel. Etty shook her head in disgust – Billy really didn’t have a clue.
Yet, somewhere in her being, she hankered for what he said to be true; that she could shed her responsibilities and follow him wherever he might go.
Then she came to her senses. An image of Norma’s cute face, jaw trembling as she watched her aunty cry, featured in Etty’s mind’s eye.
‘To be parted from my daughter for one day would be too long.’
Like the rest, she’d chased a Billy Buckley dream, she now realised. Flattered by his attention, she’d let herself become besotted. She hadn’t seen the real person, the selfish cad he truly was.
‘We could sort details out later,’ he said, lamely, and she knew the heart had gone out of his purpose.
‘Your daughter is more than a detail, Billy.’
‘I make no bones about it,’ he said, brutally truthfully. ‘I’ve never wanted to be saddled with kids. But when a mistake happens it’s dif––’
‘Never call Norma a mistake.’
They had reached an impasse. It was time for them to go their separate ways.
‘Come on, Etty, it was a slip of––’
‘Go, Billy. We don’t need you. Norma has a splendid dad in Trevor. And I have the perfect husband.’ She was being cruel, she knew, but she wanted to punish him for the hurt he’d caused.
He winced, then his expression changed to cold detachment.
‘You’ll find someone else, Billy. I realise now you were never the one for me. I need someone dependable like—’
‘Like the dummy you’ve married.’
‘Goodbye, Billy.’ Her tone was stiff.
Without a backward glance, he made for the door.
He was gone, this time for good. She heard his footsteps receding along the passageway.
She didn’t want him, Etty knew that now for certain, but neither did she want their relationship to end this way. They’d made something special together – their precious daughter.
She raced along the passageway and, peering out of the front door, saw him swaggering up the street. He was halfway up the block; it was too far to shout without attracting attention.
He reached the top of the street and, turning the corner, disappeared out of sight.
The Orphan Sisters: An Utterly Heartbreaking and Gripping World War 2 Historical Novel Page 24