First thing the next morning Joanne made the decision that she ought to visit the doctor, a fact that had been hovering in her mind for some time. Still bleeding she fearfully contemplated she must be undergoing a miscarriage. If that was the case would she still go ahead with this marriage? She slipped out of the boarding house before breakfast and hurried along Chapel Street to their local doctor, knowing she needed to arrive early to take her turn in the queue. Waiting proved to be quite an anguish but eventually her turn came.
‘You are definitely not pregnant,’ the doctor gently informed her; once Joanne had explained her predicament and he’d carefully examined her. ‘This is a perfectly normal period. In fact, I’d say you’re still a virgin, dear girl. Whatever you believe that fellow did to you, clearly didn’t happen. He probably just fondled you rather hard.’
Joanne stared up at the doctor with an enthralled sense of astonishment and relief. As he stepped away to pull off his gloves and give her a gentle smile, she quickly pulled down her skirt and removed the sheet he’d discreetly spread over her. ‘Then why have I had no periods for the last three months or so?’ she asked, utterly mortified at believing herself to be pregnant, which had resulted in a decision to marry Bernie in order to spare her the mess she was apparently in.
‘You’ve clearly experienced a health issue. Have you not been eating properly for some reason?’ he asked quietly. ‘Periods can disappear for a time due to loss of weight, a fairly common occurrence during the war. Not simply because of rationing issues but often as a result of being distressed over the loss of a loved one, which affects the ability to eat.’
Joanne nodded, suddenly understanding this had been her problem. ‘Let alone losing this GI I’d supposedly fallen in love with, I’ve lost all contact with my mother and brother after years as an evacuee. Not a pleasant experience.’
Giving her a sympathetic smile, he gently patted her shoulder. ‘You’re no doubt starting to recover from this sense of loss and have begun to eat much better. Put the past behind you and be thankful that your condition is perfectly admirable. All is well.’
Returning to the boarding house, her mind buzzing with confusion, Joanne saw Aunt Annie come marching over to meet her, dressed in a polka dot blue dress covered with a large apron. ‘Where have you been, dear? We’ve been worried that you weren’t around to deal with breakfast duties, as you usually are.’
‘Sorry, Aunt Annie, I just felt in need of a walk to think things through. A part of me is filled with nerves over this coming wedding,’ she admitted softly.
A sympathetic smile lit Aunt Annie’s plump face. ‘Nothing to fret about, it will be a simple event, not at all stressful. Bernie was also worried about your absence. You can reassure him too. Right now, you could pop upstairs to help make beds and clean bathrooms.’
‘On my way,’ Joanne swiftly assured her. She dashed off and spent the morning busily engrossed in various domestic jobs and the afternoon resting in her room, carefully avoiding speaking to Bernie, as she felt in complete turmoil.
She endured another sleepless night, this time not weeping but feeling a strange yearning for this alleged child of Teddy’s she’d imagined she was carrying. She had felt a desire for him to prove his love by kissing and caressing her, although had foolishly given no appropriate consideration to what might happen by allowing him to go too far. Thank goodness he hadn’t actually made love to her, even if he did press himself hard upon her and probably pushed his fingers inside, as he shouldn’t have done. Joanne was aware she’d been so naive and innocent she’d no idea what he was doing or why. How obsessed with sex men could be.
By dawn the sky was a pale apricot streaked with clouds, the gentle gurgling of the waves failing to salve her sense of trepidation. Wasn’t she expected to feel happy over this coming wedding? But having agreed to marry Bernie for what she deemed to be a good reason, she now had a dreadful mix of guilt and relief in the pit of her stomach.
Once breakfast had been served, washing, cleaning and all necessary tasks dealt with, they went for their usual late morning walk along the beach. Joanne remained silent as Bernie rattled on about how Blackpool’s housing waiting list was growing quite long as soldiers returned and jobs were hard to find. ‘’Course, the country’s broke, so we’ll all have to work hard to restore it,’ he said with a laugh. ‘We’ll build ourselves a good life even if it does take us a while to find a home of our own. You always look lovely, as you do now in that warm padded blue dress, woolly scarf and jacket.’
Joanne paused to stare out to sea, avoiding meeting his admiring gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Bernie, there’s something I need to tell you. The fact is that I’ve changed my mind and have decided I cannot marry you. I’m far too young and it’s not at all what I planned for my life, now the war is finally over.’
Hearing him gasp she glanced up and saw how he looked utterly shocked and upset, which filled her with a strange sense of distress. ‘I thought you were in need of a man to care and protect you. I’m most happy to do that.’
‘I no longer require such help. All is well,’ she said, then saw how his flint-like gaze flared, as if begging her not to make such an unwelcome remark. Even the shine of his brown hair in the morning sun, looking like sleek silk, made Joanne suddenly feel the need to smooth her fingers over it to comfort and apologize to him.
‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’
‘I am. The problem I thought I had is gone. I naively assumed the worst when Teddy embraced me but according to the doctor I’m still a virgin and perfectly well, although I did have a health problem now resolved. So what you saw was not as dreadful as you imagined. I’m so sorry.’ She could feel a hot flush of embarrassment light her cheeks as he viewed her with shocked desolation.
Making no further response to what she’d bravely told him, he spun round on his heels and silently walked away.
Cancelling the wedding did not go down well with his two aunts either, who were dreadfully disappointed that their beloved nephew had lost her, declaring him to be heartbroken.
Megan too was distressed, accusing her sister of dismissing Bernie’s love for her and as a result would also lose his friendship. Did that matter? Becoming trapped in a marriage with a man she didn’t love would surely have been a complete disaster, in Joanne’s humble opinion. Looking furious, Megan too stalked off, leaving Joanne feeling distraught and lonely, all too aware she may ruin her sister’s life too by destroying her hope to stay in this lovely town.
Knowing she may no longer be welcome to stay in Blackpool, having hurt the landladies’ nephew, returning to Manchester to find her mother was now most relevant in Joanne’s mind. She would stay a little while, for the sake of Megan. But if she failed to persuade her to come with her, she might lose her sister too, let alone any man to truly love her. Such was the sad reality of the foolish mistakes she’d made in her life.
Chapter Eleven
Spring 1946
It was one day in early April that Evie was informed her husband would be returning home. Going to meet him a week later at Victoria Station she was filled with excitement. When the train arrived and in a flutter of smoke he stepped out of a carriage, she stared in stunned disbelief at this tall, thin man in uniform carrying his kitbag. He looked like a total stranger; gaunt, tired, and a tension very evident in him, a person she barely recognized. It came to her that he must still be suffering from health problems. Thrilled that her beloved husband had at last arrived home, Evie flung herself into his arms to hug and kiss him. He held her tightly too, a small smile lifting the pallid expression in his pale face.
Holding his hand, she walked him along Deansgate then down the alleys off Wood Street to their home. Pushing open the door, she called out to Danny. ‘Your dad’s home, love. Come and say hello.’
Seated at the kitchen table Danny made no move to step forward or give his father’s hand a shake. Noting the blankness in her son’s face, Evie realized that he probably resented never having hea
rd from him. Donald reached into his kitbag and pulling out a toy dog, handed it to him as a gift. ‘I remember you allus liked animals, so reckoned you’d like this.’
‘I’m nearly fifteen now, sir, not interested in toys, ta very much.’
A small silence followed this comment and seeing a sourness punctuate Donald’s dark eyes, Evie quickly took him over to sit in the armchair by the fire. ‘Let me make you a cup of tea, darling. You must be pretty shattered but I’m so delighted to have you back home.’
Glancing around, he gave his head a shake. ‘Don’t really see this as our home. Not much impressed with it at all. Why did you stupidly lose the one we loved?’
Evie felt stunned by this callous remark. Was he making out that the reason their old house had been bombed was her fault? Hadn’t she and other women suffered that problem as a result of the attacks upon this city, like many other towns had suffered? ‘I too regret our first house having been bombed. At least this one is better than the various single rooms I’ve had to live in since,’ she said, giving him a smile. She’d spent weeks improving it from when she’d first moved in months ago, desperate to make it look good when members of her family arrived. He didn’t seem to appreciate her efforts. ‘Finding paint to tart this up was not easy. Fortunately, your friend Davie Higginson helped with the decorating and is looking forward to seeing you again. Now, can I get you something to eat? Perhaps a lovely slice of cake to put you on till tea time?’
‘Whatever you have available,’ he murmured listlessly. ‘My stomach’s not capable of coping with too much food.’
Studying his appearance, Evie judged he was little more than seven stone, maybe less. She knew that when Donald had volunteered to join the RAF in 1939 it was because he had a fascination to fly. He was given a test and a medical, which he passed, and was accepted as a trainee pilot. Back then he’d possessed admirable qualities. Now he looked battered having been a prisoner of war. Evie was told by one of the chiefs at the Resettlement Service that he’d been captured after his plane was hit and rapidly fell out of the sky. He and his small crew had dived out wearing their parachutes. Two of his colleagues were killed but he had fortunately landed in a tree where he was captured, imprisoned and interrogated. He’d suffered starvation as a PoW that sadly damaged his stomach, poor man. What else he’d endured as a PoW Evie had no idea. On the two visits she’d paid him in hospital while under the care of the Civil Settlement Service, he’d remained silent on the subject, clearly having no wish to discuss such traumas.
Nor did he seem to be greatly interested in hearing anything about her own life. Not her work, this house or the evacuation of his son and daughters. Evie valiantly attempted not to harass him but kept herself busy doing quiet little jobs as he sat in gloomy silence for the rest of the day. All sign of his early smiles had vanished. He ate only half the slice of cake she gave him and when she supplied him with sausage and mash for his tea, he barely ate any of that either. Danny too looked stunned as they watched him push the food around his plate, hardly eating a scrap.
‘Have I not cooked well enough for you?’ she asked him anxiously. ‘Or maybe you’d prefer something else? You do need to eat and put on a little weight.’
‘Don’t bloody boss me, woman,’ he shouted. Then to Evie’s amazement he picked up the remaining two sausages, wrapped them in his handkerchief and stuffed them in his pocket. ‘I’m in need of a walk and a blast of fresh air. Can’t bear being confined indoors.’
‘I’ll come with you. I like walking by the canal,’ Danny said.
‘Nay lad, stay put and do jobs for yer mam. I’m off to the pub for a drink and to get meself some cigarettes. ’Appen I’ll also meet up wi’ Davie.’ And he put on his coat and marched off.
Evie sat in stunned silence for a moment, then seeing Danny looking equally upset at having been refused the offer to accompany his father on a simple walk, she took her son’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Oh dear, he might be a bit snappy and impatient, but your dad’s no doubt experienced a traumatic war and we’ll just have to be patient with him and hope he eventually recovers.’
‘I’d say he’s got a mental issue,’ Danny said. ‘What he needs to realize is that we’ve all suffered from this bloody war too. The trouble is, he’s bound to assume his situation was worse than ours, so we’ll have to carefully avoid talking about it.’
What an intelligent and caring boy he was, Evie thought as she gave him a hug.
When night came Evie felt enchanted to find herself at last in bed with her beloved husband. Sadly, he made no attempt to touch or kiss her, merely said goodnight, turned over and fell asleep almost instantly. She placidly reminded herself how he was still unwell, noticing how he had a slight limp when he walked. Evie could but hope he would eventually recover and return to being the loving man he’d once been. Cuddling up close beside him, she happily drifted off to sleep. It was sometime around midnight that she was startled awake by the sound of him yelling. Switching on her bedside lamp, she saw that Donald was still locked in sleep but obviously suffering a nightmare.
Danny came rushing in to gaze at his father in stunned disbelief. ‘Is he in trouble?’ he whispered. ‘What should we do?’
Not knowing how to answer this question, Evie gave a blank shake of her head. Then when Donald again yelled out, shouting and screaming and flinging his arms up as if attempting to protect himself, she gave him a gentle shake. Thankfully, this woke him up and, seeing tears in his startled eyes, she quickly found a handkerchief to wipe them away. ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked, smoothing her hand over his chest.
Staring at her as if he’d no idea who she was, without saying a word he turned over and went back to sleep.
‘Heaven help him,’ Danny said, as he slipped away back to bed.
In the days following it became clear that having returned from the war where he’d suffered injuries and been held for a time as a PoW, Donald had mental problems locked within him, as Danny had suspected. He was listless, self-obsessed, anxious and largely exhausted. Each night, instead of wishing to make love or cuddle Evie, he suffered from sleepwalking and a constant string of nightmares. No longer the gentle, quiet man she’d fallen in love with and happily married. What was even more astounding was that he frequently fell into fits of rage whenever Evie or Danny did not do as he ordered, sounding most authoritative.
‘I told you not to keep pestering me with too much food,’ he yelled, as she guided him to the table for dinner.
‘You really do need to eat more, darling.’
‘Not this damned fatty pork or mushy peas. Do as I bleeding told you and leave me in peace,’ he shouted.
Evie jerked in dismay as he picked up his plate and threw his dinner at the wall, blemishing its white painted surface with gravy, slices of delicious fried pork, peas and mashed potatoes. What a ruinous thing to do, let alone wasting perfectly good food and doing himself no good at all.
As she understood from what her friends and niece had said when their husbands or loved ones had returned home, men did not expect their womenfolk to hang on to their freedom and independence. They behaved as if they were still very much in charge of a troop, as Donald was doing, treating Evie and his son as if they were a part of it. Nor did he take into account the daily work and responsibilities they had to deal with, let alone his own need to eat well, despite the difficulty in finding rationed food. Evie realized it was going to take some time for him to settle down. He’d once possessed admirable qualities, now he was clearly battered. Peace may finally have come to the land but she could find none in her heart.
At first, Danny felt that he missed the freedom to roam around the countryside, climb trees if not the mountains and enjoy the sparkling fresh air of the Lake District. Sometimes in his head he could see acres of heather interspersed with steep slopes and fierce crags. He also missed the horses, cows and sheep he’d helped to look after. Now he was beginning to happily settle in and felt quite close to his mother, ev
en though he was much older than when he last saw her four years ago. That was the time she came to visit him. What a treat that had been and such a pity she never managed to come again, not having much money. He remembered how she went on writing to him for years after that, as well as consistently sending him comics and food. She had always been most caring, kind and loving, sympathetic of problems he’d suffered as an evacuee, so he felt delighted to be back home.
When meeting her at Victoria Station last autumn he’d realized that his mother looked much older than he remembered and a bit tired with violet bruises beneath her eyes, very much as if she was overworked and short of sleep. Having convinced her that he had no wish to return to his old school, she’d readily helped him to find a job. He’d been happily working for a company shifting and loading goods onto canal tugs and barges for some months. It suited him well to be out and about and not stuck indoors. Working in a factory would have made him feel very claustrophobic, a sensation he sometimes felt in this grim little house.
Right now he was occupying the bedroom that was meant for his sisters. Once they were found and returned home from wherever they were, he’d be confined in that sofa bed in the living-kitchen in this miserable house. Not a pleasant prospect. But he would put up with that, feeling keen to see them again. He appreciated all his mother had done to tart this place up. Irritatingly, it still stank at times and the electricity or water would stop working. Now that he’d got to know his mother better he found she was proving to be a strong, determined lady, and still valiantly striving to find his sisters as well as care for him and his mentally deranged father.
It was a bitter disappointment that his father was not at all as friendly towards him as he used to be. Danny worried that he may have said entirely the wrong thing by refusing to accept that silly toy he’d brought. His memory and desire to see him again had been quite strong, recalling the games they’d played together before the war when he’d been a young boy. Donald had taught him how to play football and cricket, ride a bicycle and even swim. Always a fun and attentive father. Yet now he was proving to be a nightmare in more ways than one. Danny found him far too bossy, constantly issuing orders even worse than those he used to receive from Willie. Donald would pack him off to bed far too early, treating him like a young kid, not as grown-up or educated as he actually was. In reality, Danny recognized that he was as tall as his dad now, and much stronger and fitter. Was that a good thought or a sad one?
Peace In My Heart Page 9