by Ellie Dean
‘Just a touch, but nothing for you to worry your pretty head about,’ he said lightly.
He made the tea and gave it a good stir in the pot before leaving it to draw and then nipped into the shed while Ethel was talking to Ron to have a surreptitious slug of his indigestion mixture. He could hear their conversation through the shed wall, and it made him feel uneasy, for Ethel was inclined to say things he didn’t always approve of – and she was at it again now.
‘Look, Ron,’ said Ethel, ‘I don’t mean to be unkind, but your April needs to be careful who she mixes with. That Shirley’s no better than she should be, and ’anging about with ’er ain’t gunna do April’s reputation no good. The gossip’s already started, you know.’
‘We’ve had that chat among the family,’ said Ron calmly, ‘and we decided we like her and her little boy, so if April wants to be her friend, then why not?’
‘That’s up to you, o’ course, but where I come from gels know better than to get in the family way.’
‘I think you’re exaggerating, Ethel,’ drawled Ron. ‘Girls and boys are the same the world over, and accidents happen – even in the East End.’
‘Not in my neck of the woods, they don’t,’ retorted Ethel. ‘They wouldn’t bleedin’ dare. If some girl in our family went that way she’d be thrashed by her dad and thrown out on the streets. We don’t ’old with that sort of carry-on.’
‘That sounds very harsh, Ethel,’ protested Stan, emerging from the shed. He poured the tea.
‘Yeah, it might to a soft old sod like you, Stan, but the fear of God and a beating from yer dad is usually enough to keep the gels on the straight and narrow.’ She flicked the ash off her cigarette and stuck it back in her mouth with a grimace. ‘Course, there’s some what won’t be deterred by nothing, but at least we ain’t got khaki babies down ’ere in Cliffehaven – yet.’
‘A baby’s a baby regardless of their colour,’ said Stan mildly, ‘and innocent of any sin their parents might have committed. I really do think you should be a bit more charitable, my darling.’
‘I speak as I find, Stan. The world’s gone to ’ell in an ’andcart, and I ain’t afraid to say so.’
Stan didn’t agree with Ethel – and by the look on Ron’s face, neither did he – but he wasn’t about to continue the argument, for he knew he’d only come off the worse for wear and he was feeling lousy enough already. He decided to change the subject.
‘I hope you’ve got your best suit all sorted for the wedding,’ he said to Ron.
‘Aye, but there’s time enough yet to be worrying about such things.’ Ron regarded him from beneath brows that had become unruly again. ‘Have you been to the doctor about that indigestion, Stan? Only you don’t look right.’
Stan nodded. ‘He gave me something for it. I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all – worrying over all the wedding arrangements and wondering if my replacement on the railway for the day is up to the job. He’s been retired for fifteen years and his eyesight isn’t much good. I just hope he can cope.’
‘The railway people wouldn’t have employed him if he couldn’t cope,’ said Ron. He slurped down the last of his tea and got to his feet. ‘Well, if you don’t need me to do anything, I’d better get back home.’
‘Thanks anyway, Ron. See you for dominoes later on. And don’t be late.’
‘Will we be planning a wee drink or three before the wedding, Stan? You can’t be getting hitched without a drop or two inside you, and I’d be failing in me best man duties otherwise.’
‘We’ll have a couple at the Anchor on the night before – but I don’t want a late one, Ron, or to be waking up with a blinding hangover.’
‘I’ll sort something out with the others then,’ he replied cheerfully, ‘and warn Rosie she’ll need to get some more beer in.’
‘You mind you don’t get ’im ’alf cut and staggering,’ warned Ethel. ‘I want ’im sober and in one piece at the church.’
Ron nodded to her briefly, pulled on his cap and ambled off, his thoughts churning over Ethel’s diatribe. It had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. If Ethel should ever discover the truth about poor little April’s baby, it could destroy Stan’s happiness and wreck any chance of reconciliation with his niece. After today, it was more important than ever to keep April’s secret safe.
April was aware that everyone knew where she and Peggy had been today, and as she was feeling particularly low, she was grateful that none of them badgered her with questions. She didn’t have much appetite either, but with a war on and rations becoming tighter every week, she knew better than to waste any of her supper, so she forced it down and tried to look as if she was enjoying it. However, as the chatter went on around her she was isolated by her thoughts and the implications of those papers she’d signed this afternoon.
‘Just leave it, love,’ murmured Peggy. ‘I can see you don’t really want it.’
‘But it’s such a waste.’
Peggy shook her head. ‘Nothing goes to waste when Harvey’s about.’ She patted her hand and gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Everything will sort itself out, April, you’ll see,’ she said quietly beneath the excited chatter around the table.
April made a stoic effort to dredge up a smile and tune in to the conversation around her, which had now turned to Stan’s wedding and the clothes the girls had been sewing ever since they’d received their invitations. Like everyone else during this war, they’d had to make do with what they could find, and the four girls had managed to cobble together something special for the occasion out of what they had in their various cupboards. As April listened, she realised she had nothing remotely suitable to wear, and would be in her sixth month of pregnancy by then. It would probably be best if she stayed at home that day.
‘I found something in my wardrobe that will be perfect for you,’ said Peggy as if she’d read April’s thoughts. ‘It’s a navy dress and jacket that my sister Doris passed down to me and that I’ve never had the chance to wear. It was always a bit big for me, you see, and although I meant to take it in and alter it, I never had the time.’
‘I don’t know if I should go to the wedding at all,’ April said hesitantly. ‘I’ll probably be the size of a barrage balloon by then anyway.’
Peggy smiled. ‘I doubt it,’ she murmured. ‘You’re not half the size I was when I was five months gone with Daisy, and you don’t want to miss out on Stan’s wedding, surely?’
‘I do feel I ought to go. There should be someone from the family, but . . .’
Peggy pushed back from the table. ‘That’s settled, then. Come on, let’s see how that outfit looks on you.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind lending it to me?’
Peggy laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t.’
April followed Peggy into her bedroom, where Daisy was snuggled in her cot on the brink of sleep, her thumb in her mouth, the silky end of the light blanket clasped in her tiny fist as a comforter. The sight of the sleeping child stirred disturbing emotions in April and she determinedly looked away to watch Peggy unhook a hanger from the wardrobe door.
‘Take it upstairs and try it on,’ she whispered, ‘and if it’s all right, then come and show us. If not, I’m sure one of us can sort something out.’
April closed her bedroom door and took a quavering breath to steady herself before she slid the linen cover from the dress and jacket. The navy blue reminded her sharply of her time in the WRNS, but she refused to let that put her off, for the linen was of good quality, the cut and stitching immaculate and the jacket very smart with white piping and pretty silver buttons.
She stripped off the skirt and blouse that through necessity had become her uniform over the past week, eased off the sling, and stepped into the dress. The silky lining was cool against her skin, the hem reaching to just below her knee. She struggled a bit to thread her plastered arm through the armhole and then had an awful tussle with the buttons at the back. She gave up, and set aside the n
arrow white belt that came with the dress. It would merely emphasise her thickened waist and rounded stomach.
Slipping on the black pumps she’d bought the day before with her first wages, she pulled on the three-quarter-length jacket, and regarded her reflection in the dressing-table mirror with a critical eye. The dress was loose enough to hide her bump and the jacket draped perfectly as an added layer of camouflage. The colour was flattering, and all in all, she didn’t actually look too bad.
Despite all that had happened today, she felt a flutter of pleasure, for this would be her first social event since she’d been thrown out of the navy, and because it would be Stan’s wedding day, it made it even more special.
She went down to the kitchen and twirled in the doorway to a chorus of praise. ‘I just hope it will still fit in three weeks’ time,’ she said, blushing, ‘and someone will have to do me up on the day. I can’t reach the buttons with one hand.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Peggy, ‘I’ll help with those if your plaster cast isn’t off by then.’
‘I have a hat that will look just right with that,’ said Cordelia from her armchair. ‘I’ll put it in your room when I go up to bed.’
‘Oh, thank you, Cordelia, that’s very kind.’
‘I’ve got some fake pearl earrings you can borrow,’ said Ivy, ‘and a necklace. They were only cheap, but they look quite posh.’
‘And I’ve got a small black clutch bag I brought over from Singapore,’ said Sarah, looking up from the book she was reading. ‘You’re welcome to borrow it for the day, if you’d like.’
‘I’ll do your hair,’ piped up Fran, ‘and help with your make-up. We’ve got to make a real effort for Stan on his special day.’
April regarded them all with the deepest affection and once again thanked her lucky stars that she’d found such a warm and loving home in her hour of need.
24
A week had passed since Ron had quietly confided in Peggy about Ethel’s rather shocking attitude to unmarried mothers and khaki babies, and she’d been fretting about it ever since. They’d decided that as the baby would be adopted and April had agreed not to tell Stan about her pregnancy or who she was until after the wedding, it was probably best not to say anything to April just yet.
However, Peggy knew that April was struggling with the knowledge that she’d taken the first step towards giving her baby away. Fran had noticed it too, and they’d done their best to listen and comfort her when things became overwhelming. The fact that Stan was also a sympathetic listener and that April had taken to seeing him most days was very worrying. The girl was clearly on edge with having to keep their relationship a secret, and Stan was very persuasive when it came to winkling out the truth of what ailed those he cared about. Peggy began to feel she was walking on eggshells, for the whole situation could erupt at any moment, and she didn’t have the first idea of how to handle the fallout.
The tension had become so great that she decided she needed to escape it all. That Friday morning she would do something she would never have contemplated before: she was going to leave Daisy with Ron and attend her first Women’s Institute meeting.
The WI was something she’d managed to avoid until now, for she had little in common with the snooty women who ran the Cliffehaven branch, and she usually had better things to do than sit in on lectures about how to make jam – which was on a par with teaching your grandmother to suck eggs – but today she needed her mind taken off all her worries, and to spend some time out of the house.
In the draughty drill hall, the speaker was burbling on about how to make sure that only the very best fruit should be picked for jam, and how to ensure that the jars were thoroughly sterilised before using them. Since Peggy had been making jam for as long as she could remember, she tuned out of the speech and surreptitiously regarded the women surrounding her. They were mostly middle-aged, with some very elderly ones nodding off in their chairs, waiting for the lecture to come to an end so they could have their cup of tea and a slice of cake.
The chairwoman was Marjorie Gardener, the spinster sister of Vera who ran the telephone exchange, and although she was a pleasant woman most of the time, she too had once been a schoolmistress and old habits clearly died hard, for she was inclined to be rather bossy and hectoring when determined to get her own way.
Peggy’s gaze trawled the room. Lady Chumley, or ‘Lady Chump Chop’, as everyone at Beach View called her, was in the front row, wearing a very expensive hat and a mink wrap to ensure that everyone knew how important and rich she was. Beside her were the equally overdressed cronies who formed her special clique – they were well-to-do women who did a vast amount of fund-raising for good causes, but rather spoiled the charitable aspect by boasting about it to all and sundry.
They were also the women who’d shunned poor old Doris when Ted caused a scandal by having an affair with the woman who worked on the fish counter in the Home and Colonial Store. There had been a slight easing in their frostiness when it was thought Ted might return home to Doris, but that had fizzled out when Ted refused to do any such a thing and gave Doris all the evidence she would need to file for divorce. Their decree nisi was due any day.
Vera Gardener was on the far side of the room, sitting next to Clarice Hughes, who’d once taught games at the same school and now lived with her cat in a rather nice maisonette situated in the maze of streets behind the town hall. Peggy had always suspected that Vera and Clarice were more than just friends, but as it was none of her business what went on behind closed doors, she didn’t give it much thought. The rest of the women were ordinary, decent folk who kept the home fires burning while their husbands and children were doing their bit, and Peggy recognised most of them, for they’d been locals all their lives.
She tuned back in to the lecture when sugar was mentioned, and perked up considerably as it was announced that the WI had been granted extra rations of the stuff to help them make their jam and cakes so they could raise more money by selling their produce. Now, that was worth coming for. She didn’t mind a bit of extra jam-making and baking if she could keep some of it for herself.
Marjorie Gardener thanked the speaker and everyone politely applauded. This woke the elderly ladies, stirring them into a rush for the tea table. There was a bit of a scrum and Peggy waited patiently for her turn in the disorderly queue, hoping there would be enough Victoria sponge to go round.
‘Is it always like this?’ she asked Vera, who’d come to stand beside her.
‘Unfortunately the sight of cake stirs the most gentle of souls,’ she replied. ‘But as there is always enough to go round, it’s all rather pointless.’
Peggy was relieved to see she wasn’t accompanied by her revolting dog – no doubt poor April was having to look after it until Bertha took over. She’d finally reached the table and had helped herself to a lovely slice of cake and a cup of tea when Vera stilled her hand.
‘I’d like a quiet word,’ she murmured. ‘Now, if you don’t mind.’
‘Oh, dear, there’s nothing wrong, is there?’
Vera remained tight-lipped as she indicated they should sit away from the others. Filled with trepidation, Peggy perched on the very edge of the wooden chair, the teacup rattling in the saucer. ‘Whatever is it, Vera?’ she muttered nervously.
‘It’s about April,’ she replied, her thin lips barely moving. ‘I’m rather concerned, and I thought you might be able to clear things up.’
Peggy played for time by sipping the very hot, milky tea and then placing the cup on a nearby chair. ‘Concerned?’ she hedged. ‘Isn’t she doing her job properly?’
‘She’s extremely efficient,’ said Vera, ‘and if Mrs Downes wasn’t due to return in two weeks’ time I would have had very little hesitation in asking her to stay on.’
Peggy had a nasty feeling she knew where this was going, but said nothing in the faint hope she was wrong.
Vera leaned closer, her voice barely above a murmur. ‘I’m not blind, Peggy. Neither am
I stupid. The girl is in a certain condition, isn’t she?’
‘It’s not really up to me to discuss April,’ babbled Peggy. ‘And as she’ll only be with you for another couple of weeks, I hardly see how it matters one way or the other.’
Vera pursed her lips. ‘Your defence is admirable, but it does confirm my suspicions,’ she said solemnly. Her grey eyes regarded Peggy with perhaps a hint of regret. ‘I cannot condone such things, Peggy. I have my standards – as does the Post Office. If my employers were to discover that one of their telephonists was, shall we say, in an interesting condition and unmarried, it could cause the most frightful fuss and jeopardise everything.’
‘They won’t know if you don’t tell them,’ said Peggy hopefully.
Vera held her gaze for a long moment and Peggy began to feel like a recalcitrant child, caught in her glare of disapproval.
‘I have been placed in a very awkward position, Peggy.’
‘Yes, I can see that,’ she stuttered. ‘And I’m very sorry. But please let her stay, Vera, it’s so very important to her.’
Vera’s frosty expression softened. ‘Your caring nature is a credit to you, Peggy, and I’m not a teller of tales. Unfortunately, Bertha is an entirely different kettle of fish. She has taken a dislike to April for some unfathomable reason, and with her sharp eyes and vicious tongue, I can see only trouble ahead.’
‘But you can’t dismiss April because of Bertha,’ gasped Peggy. ‘It wouldn’t be fair.’
There was another long silence as Vera thought about this, and Peggy waited on tenterhooks.
‘I’m not an unkind person,’ Vera murmured finally, ‘and although I don’t approve of her circumstances, I do value April as an employee.’
‘So?’ Peggy was holding her breath.
‘I won’t dismiss her unless I absolutely have to,’ Vera said on a sigh. ‘But be warned, Peggy. If Bertha says anything, I will have no other option.’
Peggy let out the breath she’d been holding. She’d always suspected Vera was a fair and down-to-earth woman behind that rather bossy façade. ‘Thank you, Vera,’ she said warmly. ‘I do appreciate how difficult things are for you, and I want you to know that April and I are extremely grateful for your understanding and kindness.’