by Ellie Dean
As Ron headed back to Beach View to collect Harvey for his late afternoon walk, his thoughts turned to Bertie Grantley-Adams. To the rest of the world, the dapper, mild-mannered and popular little man seemed content to spend his retirement playing golf and whist or driving Cordelia about. In reality he’d been one of England’s best undercover agents during the first war, and his work had saved countless lives.
Like Ron, Bertie had also been approached by MI5 to come out of retirement and infiltrate the cadre of Fifth Columnists in Cliffehaven, which he’d done willingly, for he was staunchly patriotic and still as brave as a lion despite his advanced years. In fact he’d spent almost three weeks living rough on the streets of London as he kept close watch on one of the leading members of the group – Jasper Cliffe – and no one suspected that his so-called attack of malaria was a ruse to cover for his absence. Bertie knew Ron was part of this vital mission, but like the consummate undercover men they were, neither acknowledged it – but Ron’s admiration for the man was unbounded.
April had taken to wearing dungarees beneath the railway uniform jacket, for they were more comfortable than anything else now she was so enormous. She ran her hand over her swollen stomach and eased her back, but the baby was restless today and she was suffering a bit from indigestion – which according to Shirley was a sure sign it would be born with lots of hair.
She smiled wistfully at this and then determinedly set about watering Stan’s tubs of flowers and vegetables which were thriving in the July sun that streamed down onto the platform. There were less than seven weeks to go before the birth, and she was dreading the moment she’d have to hand her baby over to strangers. And yet she did find small comfort in the knowledge that there were two people out there who longed for the gift of a child, and that regardless of how painful it would be for her, she could be assured that her baby would be treasured.
She blinked back her tears, then set the watering can down by the standpipe and opened the tin of Spam sandwiches Ethel had brought to the station earlier. Perching on the hard wooden bench, she gazed down the empty track as she ate and watched the butterflies flitting above the embankment.
Her relationship with Ethel was still a bit awkward, for words spoken in the heat of the moment couldn’t be taken back, and entrenched points of view couldn’t be changed overnight. However, there was a definite thawing between them, and although neither broached the subject of April’s pregnancy – that would have been a step too far for Ethel – there were the occasional small signs that Ethel’s attitude was shifting.
She’d arrive with a pint of milk she said she had no need for, or a couple of buns which she insisted would go stale if they weren’t eaten – and once, she’d even turned up with a pair of sandshoes for April’s swollen feet, saying she’d found them in the lost property at the factory and as no one had claimed them she thought April might as well have them. April had gratefully accepted these gruffly given tokens, realising it was Ethel’s way of trying to make amends without actually admitting she was warming to her.
The sound of hurrying footsteps drew April from her thoughts and she smiled with pleasure as Shirley came bustling towards her looking very pretty in a floral cotton dress and white sandals. ‘Hello. I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought you were working?’
Shirley smoothed back her hair and sat down. ‘I should have been, but something’s happened, and I needed to talk to you before you heard it elsewhere.’
April eyed her friend with some alarm. ‘It’s not James, is it?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s with Mum at the bed and breakfast. And you’ll never guess who arrived last night,’ she added, her eyes shining. Before April had a chance to speculate she blurted out, ‘My dad!’
April grinned in delight. ‘I can see by your face that his arrival wasn’t a disaster – but how did this change of heart come about?’
Shirley dipped into her white handbag, found her cigarettes and lit one. ‘Well,’ she said, settling in to her story with relish. ‘You know Mum came down two days ago to visit me because she thought he was up north on one of his factory inspections? What she didn’t know was that his inspection had been cancelled and so he thought he’d surprise her by joining her.’
She blew smoke and grinned. ‘But he had to hunt about her things to discover where she was staying, because she’d been deliberately vague about it – and that was when he found my letters and the photographs of James which I’d sent to her. She’d kept them in her needlework box along with her diary, and he only found them when he tripped over it and everything spilled out.’
‘Gosh, that was lucky.’
‘I don’t think Dad thought so at first,’ said Shirley. ‘He admitted he’d been shocked to discover the extent of Mum’s deceit, but as he’d sat there amid the spilled cottons and needles, his curiosity got the better of him and he began to look at the photographs and read my letters.’
She sighed happily. ‘I’m so glad he did, because it made him realise what he was missing – for not only had he lost a daughter and turned his wife against him through his pride, he was also in danger of losing his only grandchild.’
‘I bet you and your mother were shocked to see him,’ said April.
‘I’ll say. I thought he’d come down to read me the riot act and Mum got all flustered and started babbling, but he just wrapped his arms around us both without a word and we all started crying.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘That started James off, of course, and Dad took him and soothed him wonderfully, and before we knew it, we were a family again and making plans for the future.’
April looked at her sharply, guessing the reason behind her unexpected appearance today. ‘You’re going back home, aren’t you?’
Shirley nodded. ‘We’re leaving tomorrow morning, which is why I had to see you.’ She stubbed out her cigarette and took April’s hands. ‘You’ve been a wonderful friend, April, and I shall miss you. I’m sorry I won’t be here in September to help you through things, but I’ll be by your side in spirit and will never forget you.’
They hugged fiercely, both close to tears. ‘Promise you’ll keep in touch,’ pleaded Shirley as they finally drew apart and she slipped a piece of paper into April’s hand. ‘This is my address and telephone number, and if you’re ever down my way, you must come and visit.’
April doubted she’d ever see her again, for Shirley’s village was well off the beaten track, but she nodded anyway.
‘And please say goodbye to Peggy and apologise about our not going to tea with her tomorrow,’ Shirley continued. ‘She’s a marvellous, warm-hearted woman who wasn’t afraid to stand up to bullies like that old cow down at the kiosk, and I know she’ll take very good care of you.’
She squeezed April’s hand and reached for her bag. ‘Good luck, April. I hope Stan gets better soon and that Ethel comes to appreciate what a truly lovely person you are. Now I must go and pack.’
They hugged for the last time and then Shirley was walking swiftly over the bridge and down the High Street.
April stood and watched her until she was lost amongst the factory girls and Allied servicemen who thronged the pavement. Her best friend’s story had ended happily and she was truly delighted for her – and yet she felt a twinge of envy, for it was highly unlikely that she’d ever be welcomed back into her own mother’s life.
She turned away and headed for the signal box. The five o’clock train was due, and after that Ron would take over until the last one at ten.
April dealt with the train and the questions about Stan from all the regular passengers, but her mind wasn’t fully focused on the train driver’s teasing or the usual chit-chat from the stoker, for her conversation with Shirley had stirred mixed emotions within her and she was finding it hard to contain them.
She watched the train leave the station and stood on the platform deep in thought. Mildred’s coldness towards her had never been explained or even discussed apart from a few vague comments that Stan had let
slip. The need to know and understand the woman who’d all but abandoned her was suddenly more important than ever, and she decided then and there that she would visit Stan tonight and coax the truth out of him.
Peggy had just put the Woolton pie in the oven when, to her surprise, April came into the kitchen. ‘Hello, dear. I thought you’d be visiting Stan tonight?’
‘I was going to, but Chalky, Alf and Fred were there, so I just checked he didn’t need anything and left him to it.’ She shed the uniform jacket and cap and hung them on the back of the door alongside her gas-mask box. ‘And I’ve got some news about Shirley,’ she said, reaching for the teapot.
Peggy was delighted to hear of Shirley’s happy news. ‘Well, that certainly clears up a mystery,’ she said with a smile. ‘I went to the factory on my way home and was told she’d given in her notice. I shall miss having her and the baby around, but she’s much better off being with her own family again.’
She sat down and sipped her tea. ‘But you’ll miss her more, I suspect. Shirley was a good friend, wasn’t she?’
‘I certainly will, but as you say, she’s back where she really belongs.’
Peggy caught the wistfulness in April’s face and took her hand. ‘There’s still a chance your mother might relent,’ she said softly.
‘I doubt she will, and even if she does, I don’t know how I’ll feel about it. There have been too many years of coldness between us, and after this . . .’ She ran her hand over her bump and then sighed. ‘I thought I’d ask Uncle Stan to help me understand why she’s been like she is. He’s hinted that she’d had problems of some sort when I was small, but then clammed up.’
‘Perhaps it’s better not to pry,’ said Peggy thoughtfully. ‘It might just make things worse for you.’
‘I don’t see how,’ April retorted. ‘She’s virtually ignored me for most of my life, hasn’t bothered to write or telephone, and certainly hasn’t put herself out to come and see Stan.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘That makes me sound bitter, doesn’t it? And yet, despite everything, I just need her to love me.’
Peggy’s heart lurched and she rushed to hug the girl to her. ‘Oh, my dear, I so wish things were different for you,’ she murmured. ‘If you were my little girl I’d move heaven and earth to ensure you knew you were loved.’
‘I know,’ April replied tremulously. ‘And I love you for that, Peggy, really I do.’
They embraced in silence for a moment until they had their emotions and their tears under control, and then Peggy returned to her chair. She sipped her tea and lit a cigarette, but her hand was still unsteady, and she could see that April was trying her best to put a brave face on things.
‘Did you know my mother?’ April asked finally.
‘Not really. We were at junior school together, but then she got a scholarship to a posh school in Eastbourne, and was rarely seen at home after that.’ Peggy sighed. ‘I know from Stan that she went on to university to take a degree in law because he was immensely proud of her and told everyone.’
April stared at her in shock. ‘Mother studied law?’
Peggy frowned. ‘You didn’t know? But surely she must have said something? After all, that’s where she met your father.’ She realised the girl was stunned by this news, and was immediately contrite. ‘I’m sorry, April. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known how it would affect you.’
April shook her head. ‘I’m glad you did. But what I can’t understand is why she didn’t continue to practise after I was born. For an ambitious woman to give up on something like that is incomprehensible.’
‘Well, I don’t know, dear,’ said Peggy. She’d said enough and had no wish to add anything more in the light of the girl’s shock. ‘That’s something only your mother can tell you.’
‘Uncle Stan might know. Perhaps that’s what they fell out about all those years ago. Though I can’t see why.’ April fiddled with the teaspoon, then let it rattle into the saucer. ‘I wish I’d asked more questions when Daddy was alive,’ she said on a sigh.
‘It’s a regret we all have,’ replied Peggy. ‘I wish I’d talked more to my parents about their lives, and the family history. But I was too busy with my own life to take much notice of their reminiscences, and now they’re gone, it’s too late, and all I have are old faded photographs.’
She pushed back from the table and checked on the pie. The suet Alf had supplied had turned the potato pastry to a golden flaky topping, and just looking at it made her mouth water. She transferred it to the smaller oven where it would keep warm but not overcook and then turned back to April.
‘I understand your need to know more about what makes your mother the way she is, but do try not to badger Stan about it, dear. He isn’t as strong as before, and I’m sure none of us want him to suffer any undue stress.’
‘Of course not, Peggy. I’ll just ask him a few questions and see how willing he is to talk about her. If there’s the slightest sign that he’s getting upset, then I’ll leave it.’
Peggy gave an inward sigh of relief, for what she’d heard about Mildred from Stan over the years wasn’t edifying, and she was almost certain that he would find talking about her to April extremely difficult. Especially as April was so vulnerable still and only weeks away from giving birth.
29
Stan was such a popular man that there were always visitors at his bedside when April went in to see him, and so it was another ten days before she could catch him on his own. It was a lovely early August afternoon and April had made a point of arriving at the hospital early, in the knowledge that Stan would probably be in the small garden at the back and that she could sneak out there without Matron discovering her.
It was a walled garden, with a patch of grass at the centre and deep flower beds stuffed with hollyhocks, lavender, Canterbury bells, yellow-centred daisies and all manner of blooms that wouldn’t have looked out of place surrounding a cottage. Roses and honeysuckle trailed along the mellow brick walls, and the wooden trellis above the paved seating area was positively dripping with purple clematis and clambering sweet-scented scarlet roses.
April saw Stan immediately, for he was alone on the sun-dappled terrace and dozing peacefully in a wicker chair in his pyjamas and dressing gown. He looked remarkably well, for his colour was good and he’d clearly lost quite a bit of weight. She tiptoed over and sat down, reluctant to disturb him, but worried that the opportunity to talk to him privately might be lost by the arrival of other visitors.
He gave a little grunt and blinked sleepily at her before breaking into a wide smile. ‘I must be getting old,’ he said ruefully. ‘I never usually drop off during the day.’
‘Oh, I think you’ve earned a nap after all you’ve been through,’ she said fondly. ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you.’
‘Well, don’t be. It’s lovely to see you and have you all to myself for once. How are you?’
She brought him up to date on everything and assured him she was feeling very well indeed. ‘And what about you, Uncle Stan? You’re looking very trim, I must say. Any news on when you might be coming home?’
He patted his stomach and beamed with pleasure. ‘I’ve lost two whole stone and feel much better for it, even though I’m missing Ethel’s cooking something rotten. And the really good news is that I should be out of here early next week.’
‘That’s marvellous to hear. I bet Ethel and Ruby are thrilled.’
‘They don’t know yet, so keep it under your hat. I want to surprise them when they visit this evening.’ He fiddled with the braid that edged his tartan dressing gown. ‘Of course I won’t be allowed to rush about like I used to, or lift heavy things, or work in my allotment – not at first, anyway. But you wait, April, I’ll be back to my old self before you know it once I can get out of here and back home where I belong.’
‘You just make sure you don’t overdo things, Stan,’ she said firmly. ‘We don’t want you to have another attack.’
‘Ethel will keep a close eye on
me, never fear,’ he replied comfortably. ‘And I certainly never want to feel pain like that again.’ He laced his fingers over his much reduced stomach and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I get the feeling you’ve been wanting to talk to me about something these past few days, April.’
‘There is something I want to discuss with you,’ she admitted, ‘but I’m not sure if this is the right time, or even if you’d be willing.’
His gaze was steady as he regarded her. ‘This is about your mother, isn’t it?’ At her nod he gave a deep sigh. ‘I knew we’d have to have this conversation one day, and I can’t say I’ve been looking forward to it.’
April felt a pang of guilt. ‘Then we won’t take it any further.’
He was silent as he gazed out to the garden, following a pair of red admiral butterflies which were darting back and forth above the flower beds. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘It’s right you should know – especially as you’re about to become a mother yourself.’
April waited for him to gather his thoughts.
‘I loved my sister,’ he said. ‘She was such a bright little thing, with an enquiring mind and a winning smile that could charm the birds out of the trees. My parents were overjoyed when she was born, for the loss of little Daphne to scarlet fever had been the most terrible blow, and it seemed to them that Mildred had been a gift from God in their later years.’
April kept still and silent, not wanting to break the spell.
‘I suppose we all spoilt her because we loved her so – and that, unfortunately, was her undoing.’ Stan took a deep breath and raised his face to the sunlight dappling through the tangled branches of the clematis and roses. ‘We all realised she was very clever, and my poor parents were at their wits’ end because they simply couldn’t afford to send her to the sort of school that would challenge her. And then she won a scholarship to a fancy place in Sussex. There were still some fees to pay, and of course things like books and uniform to buy, but my parents scrimped and saved and Mother took on cleaning jobs and extra laundry so Mildred could take advantage of this life-changing opportunity.’