Dolly's War

by Dorothy Scannell

  We wheeled our bicycles home, Marjorie a little disapproving because I was amused at the thought of the village sergeant taking down, in his broad Suffolk accent, her statement of ‘love in the raw’.

  My parents-in-law had been baby-sitting for us and when my father-in-law asked how I had got on, I said, ‘I may have performed the first ever circumcision by bicycle.’ ‘What a disgusting thing to say,’ said Marjorie, and I whispered to Alfred that I’d tell him all about our two-wheeled adventure later. He had such a sense of humour and I often popped in to tell him anything amusing for life was a little quiet for him in the country, and as his eye-sight was failing he could hardly see to read the paper or a magazine. I knew he’d be in hysterics listening to the story of my ride.

  But my pa-in-law was not destined to hear this tale of rustic passion for now it seemed that we were winning the war I decided it could manage very nicely without me. We would go back to London, Susan and I and prepare our home for one returning hero.

  I could have had a ceremonious good-bye with my friends at the hospital, a party, exchanges of addresses, ‘Don’t forget, Towser, if you’re ever in the little old U.S. of A,’ sort of thing, but I remembered an expression of my father’s regarding such occasions, ‘Don’t prolong the agony,’ and I agreed with his unsentimental attitude to good-byes. It took the sting out of nostalgia. But I did have a farewell lunch with Maudie.

  ‘My trouble,’ said Maudie, analytically and unemotionally, ‘My trouble has always been that I am unable to say “no”, not because I don’t want to say “no”, but because, when I was a kid I was taught to say “yes” all the time. “It’s rude to refuse, it’s bad-mannered to say ‘no’,” they’d say, and now I just don’t know how to. With my whisky distributor,’ she said mysteriously, ‘I didn’t want to. I didn’t like it, yet it was all because I didn’t like to say “no”, and look at the trouble it could have led to. I wonder,’ went on Maudie, miles away in a philosophical pasture-land of unreality, ‘what a judge in a court would say if you said, “I just didn’t like to refuse.” It’s the same with other things, and I’ve had another lucky escape there. Did I ever tell you about Ellen?’

  Ellen, apparently, was an ex-colleague of Maudie’s. She had come down to the country with her three small boys. A lovely-looking girl, she was good-natured and easy-going. She had been married quite young having been ‘seduced’ at a party when both she and a fellow guest were in that dangerous state of not being drunk exactly, but in that beautiful limbo land between, where everything is just that bit rosier than reality. Her chap had ‘done the right thing by her’ and married her, but they were totally unsuited and very unhappy. Maudie met Ellen at a war-time factory in Colchester where Ellen had met the man of her dreams, a young G.I., of comfortable parents, single and handsome. They were madly in love and wished to get married. Ellen told Maudie her divorce was through and Maudie was a witness at Ellen’s wedding, blessed by permission of the American authorities. They left for the U.S. immediately after the wedding, where the bridegroom was to take up an important military post. Maudie said she thought everything was in order, why it had to be, the authorities were very careful of their young men away from home.

  Maudie had signed all sorts of forms and affidavits for the two lovers and was shocked and worried when she discovered (after the wedding) that the decree nisi wasn’t nicely ‘nisi’, but ‘pending’. ‘I always read what I sign now,’ said Maudie, ‘and I would advise you to do the same, Dolly.’ ‘What happened to Ellen in the end, did you ever hear?’ ‘Yes,’ said Maudie, ‘I had some marvellous photos from them after the war when everything was in order, and they sent me a gold locket as a thank-you present. They are still as happy, and have twin daughters, now, her home looks like a Spanish hacienda, her in-laws think the world of her, and she had another ‘wedding’ in a cathedral out there. Every time I look at the locket though,’ went on Maudie, ‘I can see myself carted off to prison, it doesn’t really do to trust even your best friend.’

  Maudie herself took a down-to-earth view of life. Before the war she had been a normal wife and mother, happy in her marriage, loved and loving. I thought her honest because she had no furtive, prim, or narrow attitudes towards sharing her bed, and openly admitted she needed a ‘sleeping’ partner to keep her a happy and contented mother to her two children. I knew that after the war if her husband returned they would resume a contented married life, the past would probably never arise, for Maudie always ‘kept her head’. There would be no surprise offspring to greet her demobbed husband, and each resident knew that she was waiting for her husband. What she offered them was a temporary haven and I believe she made life bearable for the pilots on their dangerous nightly missions over enemy territory.

  She was kind and generous, helpful to those in trouble and had a great sense of humour. She told me of her first hilarious adventure into the realms of ‘unfaithfulness’. She had been working for some months for a scientific and technical officer, a very serious man who checked and counter-checked facts and figures and who performed all his duties ‘according to plan’ never deviating from the printed instructions, leaving nothing to chance. He was a tall man with a fine physique, and Maudie said all the girls in her department were crazy about him because in addition to his god-like appearance he was aloof therefore appearing ‘hard to get’. One evening, having worked late, and alone with this pragmatic Adonis, over coffee the conversation turned to the realms of married love and how, having once experienced this normality of life, the wartime absence of the physical side of love could be harmful from a point of view of frustration alone. Before long Maudie and her colleague had agreed that the resumption of normality was overdue for both of them and what better time and place than the present. ‘I will go and fetch the necessary equipment and I have a lovely book. Perhaps you would like to prepare yourself while I am away,’ said the scientific officer, and left the Nissen hut. Maudie didn’t know quite what to do to prepare herself. Suppose she took her frock off and someone from the Camp came in? No, she could always ‘prepare’ herself at the height of passion, although she doubted any passion would arise somehow. She wondered why she still stayed, possibly because the next bus that could take her home wasn’t due for an hour. The book her lover would produce she imagined would be a book of poetry. How touching; she would never have associated him with such tender sentimentality.

  Her lover-to-be reappeared. He was wearing a dressing-gown underneath which Maudie could glimpse swimming-trunks. How clever! Of course he would appear to any outsider to be on his way to the shower. But he also had two pillows and a blanket, a bottle of whisky, two glasses, a book, and what Maudie thought was the strangest thing of all, a small metal cash-box with a key in the lock. He spread the blanket on the floor, placed the pillows side by side and motioned Maudie to take her place on this ‘couch’. She was now having great difficulty in keeping her face straight. The officer poured a minute amount of whisky in each glass saying he thought it would help them to relax. It was hardly a teaspoonful. Fortunately Maudie didn’t like whisky but it crossed her mind, even though she would have been suspicious had it been a large tot, that here was a mean man. He put the glasses on the table, the book by his side, and then methodically ‘opened the box’. ‘Oh, God,’ thought Maudie, ‘surely he is not going to ask me what I charge?’ But out of the cash-box he extracted a sheath, which he placed by his side on the blanket, then locked the cash-box again and placed it tidily by the side of the glasses. ‘Now for Browning,’ giggled Maudie to herself as her passionate friend opened the book. He began to read, half to himself, a sort of manual on ‘how it should be done’. Maudie suddenly felt a long way off and the next ten minutes were like an unfeeling dream; she could have gone to sleep and felt she wouldn’t have been missed, for even his kiss was like placing blotting-paper on blotting-paper.

  When it was all over, and she only knew this was so when the officer poured her another minute nip of the liquid which she always under
stood was guaranteed to ‘put fire into the belly’, he put his arm round her and said, ‘Now comes what I always think is the best part of love-making.’ (‘God, is there more?’ thought Maudie.) But no, the best part was ‘the chat’ on the occurrence after the occurrence, according to her lover. Maudie was silent and for the first time believed what a friend had told her some years ago. This friend apparently could sleep anywhere and had told Maudie that once she had ‘dropped off’ at the passionate heights of her husband’s love-making. She had awoken, with a start, to find herself alone in bed and thought, ‘Now, something was happening, what was it?’ Realising what a terrible thing she had done, what an insult to a dear lover, she had gone in search of her husband and then upset him further by bursting into peals of laughter. He was sitting in his pyjamas by the dying embers of the sitting-room fire, moodily smoking his pipe, but he had put on his bowler-hat, to keep warm!

  Chapter 11

  Homecomings

  Both Susan and I were excited at going home. She gave a great sigh as the train drew into Liverpool Street and it seemed as though she had been holding her breath for this moment. I gave her a hug which evoked a blush and a smile. She was a quiet thoughtful child, one of those children who are ‘no bother’. My only worry was her extremely poor appetite and dislike of milk.

  My old mum and dad were at the gate of the house at Forest Gate waiting excitedly to greet us. Dad led Susan into our dining-room which was shining from Mother’s exertions. In the middle of the floor was a blackboard and easel and chalked on the blackboard in Dad’s best printing were the words, ‘Welcome home, Susie.’

  Susan was soon away to play in the road with her old friends. It seemed strange that they had been separated all over England for so many, many months, yet they all knew each other instantly and within a few moments it was as though they had never been separated.

  VE-Day was announced and the war in the Far East seemed a long way away since none of the men in our road had been in that theatre. Great bustle and activity took place as the wives began a gigantic spring-cleaning and first-aid repairs to their war-scarred houses. A street party was organised and we expected Chas home on leave at about this time. He was now on the borders of Yugoslavia and Italy with the Venezia Guilia Police Force, very busy as usual (he was a magnet for work) requisitioning hotels for the army. He would take an inventory of one hundred rooms, in record time, entirely by himself.

  I eked out my meat rations in order to get Chas a nice piece of meat for the day of his arrival home. I don’t know why I made sacrifices for this meal really, for whilst in the Police Force he had had the services of a marvellous Chinese cook who one day placed before him sixteen grilled kidneys, and this at breakfast time! But he would be hungry after a long journey and as we had been separated for three years a meal would help to overcome our initial shyness with each other. I was quite convinced we would be painfully ill at ease for the first few days after his homecoming.

  About an hour before he was due to arrive I fetched Susan in from a lovely game she was having with her friends. She took a dim view of this, after all she had never known her daddy really. She was quite content with the adults she already possessed. At last, both mother and daughter looking like models from a magazine, we sat quietly waiting. And we waited, and waited and waited. Finally, assuming Chas would not be arriving that day we both changed into our ‘everyday’ clothes. Susan rushed back, with great glee, to her friends, and I went upstairs to sit with my parents. All my excited anticipation had dissolved and I felt suddenly irritable.

  Susan and her friends had knocked several times for all those things children like to keep worrying one for, possibly they keep returning to see if Mother is still there, so that irritable at a further knocking I rushed down to the door saying bad-temperedly, ‘Well, and what is it now?’ and there was Chas. We gazed at each other for a minute without speaking and then he said, ‘I’ve knocked several times, you know.’ This remark after the time Susan and I had spent dressed up waiting for this very knocking! He then continued, ‘Is that dirty-looking child in the green coat out there, mine?’ ‘Susan is wearing a green coat,’ I said. ‘But she can hardly be dirty.’ I felt furious that neither of us had retained our model garments. Susan came in as we went into the dining-room (Chas and I had not yet greeted each other with even a kiss). Chas and his daughter eyed each other like protagonists. ‘Here’s your lovely Daddy at last, darling!’ I said brightly, anxious to erase the previous moments of his arrival and start afresh with a real welcome. Fortunately she allowed him to kiss her and I helped Chas off with his pack, suddenly in a dither, not knowing whether to talk to him first or march Susan off to the bathroom for it appeared by the look of her she had been playing ‘mud pies’.

  However, all the jobs got done and after our meal I prepared Susan for bed, while Chas went up to see my parents. We only had one bedroom, although it was a very large one, and I had purchased a single bed for Susan which I placed in the far corner of the room. She had slept with me for the greater part of the war during the air-raids and eyed this new bed with reluctance. ‘Is he going to sleep here then?’ she asked. ‘Yes, darling,’ I said. ‘For ever?’ she queried in a horrified tone. I thought it expedient for the sake of a peaceful evening with my beloved, to tell a white lie. ‘No,’ I replied reassuringly, ‘not for ever,’ and I added quickly, ‘Daddy’s going back to another country in two weeks’ time.’ Fortunately this satisfied her and she was soon fast asleep. I changed hastily and donned a glamorous-looking housecoat in green and gold brocade. This had come from Persia and had been a present from an American officer to his wife, but she had deserted him for someone else and in a state of emotion he had given it to me saying, ‘Here, Towser, perhaps it will do something for you when your husband returns, I admire women like you who have Carried on so cheerfully and loyally while their husbands have been away.’ ‘It’s an ill wind,’ I had thought at the time, rather callously. The officer felt his wife had no reason to desert him, no raids or shortages in America to cause her to do such a thing.

  I lit the fire, for not only would it be more welcoming and easier to relax with each other in its flickering light, but I thought Chas might feel the cold on an English summer evening after living in such warm climes. I placed two arm-chairs by the fire, and awaited his return from above. He removed his armchair from the fireside and sat in it by the window. ‘He’s more shy than I thought he would be,’ I reflected. He seemed to be staring at me in the firelight. I was just racking my brains for something nice to say to him when he arose suddenly from his chair. ‘At last.’ I felt all warm and loving at his approach. But no, he switched on the light and said belligerently, ‘Now I’ll see the books.’ ‘Books,’ I stammered, ‘I didn’t know you liked reading.’ ‘No, the bank books, the savings books,’ he went on as I gazed stupidly at him. Book in the singular would have been bad enough at such a time, but books in the plural! I was furious, all my loving, welcoming mood evaporated. Everything had gone wrong, I was sure it wasn’t my fault, and thus ensued, on our first meeting after the toil, stress and misery of the war, a fierce argument. Chas calmed down first and it transpired that ‘someone’ in his mess, or the officers’ mess (he must have been a hypnotic beast, I was sure) had warned the chaps that their wives had held the reins for so long they wouldn’t relinquish them easily, and unless a man ‘put his foot’ down on arrival home from a financial view, he might become a second-class citizen in his own home, and not the man of the house as he had been before the war further emancipated women.

  However, the argument seemed to clear the air and remove the last traces of our shyness with each other, and after a drink both very tired (at doing nothing exciting) we retired to bed. As I took off my housecoat I thought, well, perhaps bed is the right place for making love. No sooner had Chas put his arm round me than a little voice came from the corner, ‘Can I come in your bed, Mummy?’ Deciding quickly to myself, ‘Well there’s another day tomorrow,’ I was on the
point of saying, ‘Of course you can, darling,’ when Chas said, quite sharply I thought, ‘No, you cannot, just close your eyes and go to sleep.’ Of course Susan began to cry and I said to Chas, ‘You shouldn’t snap at her like that.’ I went over to her, and for the sake of peace and quiet I whispered that if she closed her eyes and tried to sleep I would buy her something extra-special the next day. This seemed to be the right approach and we heard no more from her. I was glad Chas hadn’t heard my bribery and corruption promise to her for he would have been very cross I am sure.

  Back in bed, to make a fresh start, I tenderly took Chas’s hand but with an unearthly groan he thrust my hand back at me. This inhuman noise heralded the start of ten days’ illness for him. He was very poorly indeed, the doctor diagnosing either gastric flu, dysentery or a foreign bug. Mother made up a bed for him in her spare room in case of infection. He recovered, but the illness left him with severe palpitations so that he was unable to exert himself in any way! Finally he visited a military doctor and thankfully his heart returned to normal. I felt I was being punished in some way for my unpatriotic wishes at his first army medical. Now that the war was over surely his heart wasn’t going to have its own back on me? However we had at least a couple of happy days before he returned to the Continent, and his leave was still not ‘wasted’ one might say, for by the time he returned home demobbed I was already large with our second child.

  We had visited the hairdressers towards the end of his leave. The salon was run by a married couple, who, I thought, knew me well. The ladies’ salon was on the ground floor and the men’s on the floor above. I was ready to leave before Chas and sat in the passage with the proprietress waiting for him. As he came down the stairs she said, ‘Here is your son, won’t you be glad when he is home for good.’ So I looked old enough to be his mother, and he had spent nearly two weeks as an invalid! I looked at Chas and he was actually ‘grinning’ (quite a feat for him) and as we went down the road he burst into laughter. I shook off his arm and wished he had been wearing a revolver for I might have shot him on the spot. And to think a month previously I was sure I would be spending two weeks of rapturous bliss. At the very youngest I must look fifty!