by Anne Bennett
The words brought Billy’s head up. ‘She’s dead?’ he asked in delight.
‘Yes, she is.’
‘Well, thank God for that.’
‘Billy!’
‘What? I’m not going to cry over her.’
‘I’m not asking you to.’
‘Leave it, Meg,’ Terry said, trying valiantly to stop his own face from breaking into a beam of happiness. ‘Let’s hear the rest. Did she die in a raid?’
‘Yes,’ Kate said, ‘but not in the way you might think. She died on Monday but there was a fire and so there were problems with identification. The fire was because an incendiary fell down the chimney and ignited the illicit petrol stored in wooden barrels in the spare room.’
‘She was a black marketeer,’ Terry said. ‘I knew she was up to summat fishy. Fancy Doris being a black marketeer.’
‘Yes, her and a man called Frank Zimmerman,’ Kate said.
‘Who’s he?’
‘A friend of her ex-husband, I believe,’ Kate said. ‘Oh, and that is another thing: looking through her records the police found she was probably never properly married to your father. Her husband went on the run after killing someone and somehow she had a hand in it. Apparently she was in a lot of debt and had to leave the North. Certainly when she met your dad her husband was alive, though he was killed later.’
‘Why marry Dad then?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Kate said. ‘Because he was available and in full-time work, so there was security for her and she probably thought him easy to manage.’
‘Oh, I’ll say he was,’ Terry said with feeling. ‘Putty in her hands, he was.’
‘It was a way of changing her name as well in case anyone was looking for her,’ Kate said.
‘So when did this Frank whathisname turn up?’
‘No one is quite sure about that, but when he did she was back with him doing drugs and then, with the war starting and rationing, anything going, I suppose.
‘But how come we’ve got Ruth back?’ Meg asked.
‘Well, that’s down to your father,’ Kate said. ‘He left a document behind when he went to war, a legal document drawn up by a solicitor and witnessed, stating that if anything happened to him or Doris, you were to be the children’s legal guardian till they come of age. The solicitor had charge of it and, hearing about Doris’s death, took it to Rosie and she took that to the children’s welfare department. Nicholas came to find me and asked me to stand as character witness for you.’
‘Character witness?’ Meg cried incredulously. ‘But you believed all those lies Flatterly told you about me.’
‘I know,’ Kate said. ‘Please forgive me. I should have known better. I seem to have had blinkers on where that man was concerned.’
‘I hope they are well and truly off now,’ Stephen said. ‘Meg has told us all a little bit about him and he is a nasty piece of work and needs teaching a lesson.’
‘Oh don’t worry, Stephen, he is being taught a lesson right now,’ Kate said. ‘He is in hospital and very badly burned. He was caught in the blast and that was because he was going to the flat to get his supply of cocaine. In his car around the corner were three petrol containers. He told me he got extra petrol because he was on the council. He also told me he had a defective heart and so was passed as medically unfit for the services, but that wasn’t true either. In fact, he paid another man who did have a defective heart to stand in for him. It was your uncle Robert who found out about this man and went to see him. To save his own skin he spilled the beans about everyone he has helped, and Richard Flatterly was top of the list.’
‘What will happen to him?’
‘If he survives, and he is so badly burned there is doubt about that, he will probably hang.’
‘Shall you be upset?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ Kate said. ‘I have a father who was badly injured in the last war and a brother fighting in this. Richard Flatterly deserves all that he has coming to him.’
‘This is unbelievable,’ Terry said. ‘That was what Uncle Robert hinted at but wouldn’t tell anyone about.’
‘Can’t blame him for not telling you,’ Stephen said. ‘Couldn’t risk it getting out.’
‘I understand now,’ Terry said. ‘He said I’d know soon enough.’
‘So was this paper enough with what you said about Meg to get Ruth out of that place?’
‘Well, it wasn’t just me,’ Kate said. ‘Nicholas did his work well: he brought the solicitor, the priest and the doctor as well as me. The doctor was marvellous. He said how good you were with all of the children, Meg, and the little mother you have had to be to Ruth – the only mother she has ever known – and he could not recommend that she should go to strange people living in another country when she has a loving family here. Added to that your father hadn’t ever signed the forms that allows a child to be adopted. No one had checked that, apparently.’
‘I wonder why he did that?’ Meg said.
‘Well, we’ll never know now,’ Kate said. ‘But you were so fond of the child maybe he thought if you married or something and you had the chance of bringing her out of there sometime it would easier if he hadn’t signed the forms.’
‘There have been tales of children adopted without any forms, though.’
‘Maybe,’ Kate said. ‘But in Ruth’s case they also had the letter, and important people knew those forms weren’t signed. The priest is in a position of power in Catholic orphanages and he was firmly on your side. Anyway, they also brought up the question of your age.’
Meg groaned. ‘No getting round that.’
‘There is if someone is there to oversee you until you turn eighteen,’ Kate said, ‘which the doctor pointed out is less than a year away. Rosie offered straight away.’
‘Ah, but the children are starting school here now,’ Meg said. ‘Everything is settled and I don’t fancy taking them back to Birmingham if the raids are going to start.’
‘We don’t want to go anyway, do we?’ Billy said, appealing to his sisters, and they shook their heads in agreement. ‘No we don’t.’
‘And it would mean leaving here,’ Meg said. As she spoke her eyes, full of meaning, lighted on Stephen. Only Terry noticed him turn away and the hurt flood over Meg’s face as she finished, ‘and I’d hate that too.’
‘So what’s wrong with me and Will?’ Enid said. ‘I know we’re not relatives, but—’
‘I don’t think that matters,’ Kate said. ‘You will have to have someone to verify that you are respectable upright citizens. You know, a doctor or a priest.’
‘Well,’ Enid said. ‘Either or both would vouch for us. I suppose it could all be done by letter?
‘Oh, yes,’ Kate said. ‘If you let me have their addresses before I leave the authorities will probably contact them direct. They had a meeting and decided that till it’s all signed and sealed Ruth stays with you.’
‘And quite right too,’ Enid said.
Much later, after a lovely meal, during which Kate had been astounded to learn what had happened to Jenny, Sally and Billy, she was preparing to leave when she suddenly said, ‘Oh, Meg, I nearly forgot. Your aunt sent you these. She found them when she was clearing out the house.’
‘Letters from America,’ Meg said, opening the package.
‘Yes,’ Kate said. ‘Rosie said she hoped you didn’t mind, but she opened the first one and scanned the first page in case it was upsetting, but told me it was anything but. They are full of concern for you.’
‘I have a lot to tell them, and a new address for them to send letters to,’ Meg said. ‘I’m so glad to get these because they are a link to my mother.’
Jenny and Sally wanted to put Ruth to bed, and now that Meg had learned to manage the horse and cart she offered to take Kate to the station. Stephen asked if he could go with her. She guessed that he wanted the chance to talk, but nothing was said in front of Kate, who apologised again for her bad behaviour towards Meg and promised to make it
up to her. Meg assured her she had nothing to make up, but she would value her friendship, and they were both quite emotional as they said goodbye.
They hadn’t gone far along the road on the way back home when Stephen asked Meg to stop the cart. He took her hand and said, ‘Meg, please listen to me. I have been cool and distant with you and have hurt you and I am very sorry.’
‘It was more that you have confused me,’ Meg told him, honestly. ‘I thought we were friends, at least.’
‘Oh, Meg, I wanted to be so much more than a friend,’ Stephen said.
‘Wanted to be?’ Meg repeated. ‘Is it over between us, Stephen?’ Meg asked.
Dumbly Stephen nodded.
‘But why?’ Meg cried. ‘What have I done?’
‘Oh, my darling,’ Stephen said. ‘You have done nothing. I am doing this for you. I’m releasing you.’
‘Releasing me for what?’
‘To find someone new. Someone more worthy of you.’
‘Stephen, what are you on about?
‘You’ll thank me in the end,’ Stephen said almost as if Meg hadn’t spoken.
‘I don’t want anyone else.’
‘Meg, you’re only seventeen years old.’
‘I have worked that out,’ Meg said. ‘But that isn’t my fault.’
‘You have your life I front of you,’ Stephen said. ‘And you are so beautiful, you could have anyone.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Meg said. ‘I’m not at all, and I don’t want just anyone.’
‘Meg, I am a cripple,’ Stephen said. ‘I only have one good leg. The other is baldy pitted and scarred and I have only half a right foot. In fact, I have scars all over my body and I am not at all the man I was when I walked off to war. As for my foot, they say that though they will be able to build my shoe up, I will always have a pronounced limp and the leg itself will never be anywhere near as strong as the left. I’ve spoken to the doctor and that’s what he said. I don’t even know if I will be able to farm and it’s all I can do. How can I marry you like this if I’m not able to provide for you properly?’
‘What are you on about?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I asked you why you felt the need to release me.’
‘And I told you.’
‘No, you didn’t, you told me some rubbish about your foot.’
‘Doesn’t it matter to you?’
‘Not in the way you mean,’ Meg said. ‘It matters to me only if it gives you discomfort.’
‘No, it doesn’t hurt now, but it looks awful, grotesque’
‘Who cares, because I don’t,’ Meg said.
‘You can’t mean that?
‘Yes I can,’ Meg said. ‘I bloody well can. Don’t you tell me I don’t mean what I say.’
‘What if I can’t farm?’
‘I’d say you are looking on the black side of this totally, Stephen.’ Meg said. ‘Maybe there will be things you can’t do and ways of doing things you may have to adapt to make life easier, but are you intending to sit in the armchair all the days of your life because of a limp?’ And before he could answer she went on, ‘In Birmingham we had a rent man with a really pronounced limp and it didn’t stop him doing anything because he didn’t let it.’
Meg saw the doubt still on Stephen’s face and she realised his confidence had taken a severe knock. At that moment, seeing his vulnerability, she loved him more than ever. She took his hand and said gently, ‘Stephen, your body is no longer perfect, it’s battle scarred, but I fell in love with the person not the body. Think of your good friends Luke and John? Wouldn’t they love to be standing here beside you now, and looking forward to living their lives, limp or no limp?’
Stephen nodded. ‘They would,’ he said. ‘I suppose you think me rather shallow?’
‘Will you stop trying to guess what I am thinking?’ Meg said. ‘You’re wrong, anyway, because what’s in my head at the moment is that I think I love you and your gammy leg and your bloody foot.’
‘Only think?’ Stephen said with a tentative smile that caused Meg’s heart to flip over. ‘Well, if you would only shut up for five minutes and give me a kiss,’ Meg told him, ‘I might be able to give you a more definite answer. But only do that if you have given up all thoughts of releasing me. I am where I want to be.’
‘Are you sure?’ Stephen said. ‘You are so very young.’
‘I can’t help being young,’ Meg said. ‘And being young doesn’t stop me knowing who is in my heart and that is you Stephen Heppleswaite and only you.’
‘Oh, my darling girl,’ Stephen cried. ‘I love you so much. I never dreamed you could still want me.’
‘Hush,’ Meg said, ‘Of course I still want you and I will love you till the breath leaves my body. And,’ she added with a coy smile. ‘I am still waiting for that kiss,’
Stephen’s lips descended on Meg’s. She felt a shaft of desire shoot through her. After all that had happened to her in her life she knew that that wonderful kiss sealed a love that was strong and true and would stand firm against all that life might throw at them, and Meg felt that at last she had come home where she belonged.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I wrote this book primarily because I wanted to highlight the really valuable work the Women’s Land Army did in the Second World War. Although the organisation was started in 1917 in the First World War, then called The Great War, it was revived again in the summer of 1939 just before the official clarification that we were actually at war, which by then everyone knew was inevitable. Young women from all walks of life and most with no experience of farming at all, joined the Land Army and in the main they were dedicated, eager to learn and extremely hard working. It was a good job they were. For Hitler, instead of immediately bombing our towns and cities, as people expected, concentrated instead on sinking our merchant ships. We are an island race and we were far from self sufficient then, so he thought he could perhaps starve us into submission. Without the Land Girls he might have succeeded for many of the farm hands were called into the armed services at the very moment when farmers were told they had to drastically increase their yield if Britain’s people were not going to starve to death. And yet, after the war, the Land Girl’s vital contribution to the war effort seemed largely forgotten and it was only in the last year or two that they have been recognized and have taken part in the Remembrance Day Memorial Service at the cenotaph.
When I read about this I started to research the Women’s Land Army and was left full of respect for this valiant band of women and decided to include one of them in my new book.
I was inspired further by Wartime Britain, which I saw on the television and later I bought the book that accompanied the series, compiled by Peter Ginn, Ruth Goodman and Alex Langlands. I also bought Land Girls compiled by Joan Mant, which told of women’s true stories and experiences in the Land Army. I trawled the internet too and some of the Land Girl’s lives on the various farms were documented in The People’s War series compiled by the BBC. I used Life On The Home Front as well, which was a Reader’s Digest book and Carl Chinn’s book Brum Undaunted.
And so with most of the research completed I began to write the story of Meg Hallett, starting off with a most traumatic and upsetting event that meant her future was not the one she thought it would be.
It is when I begin the book that I value greatly the Harper team behind me, my editor, Kate Bradley and my publicist, Amy Winchester. My agent Judith Murdoch too is always there on the end of a phone or e-mail to help and advise and I appreciate all you do, so thank you. Thanks to Yvonne Holland for the copy edit, we know each other well.
Thanks too to my lovely friend Judith Kendall and all the fellow dog walkers I meet on West Shore every day. Most know nothing about writing but they are very interested in what I do and how it works and how the current book is coming along. They are a great bunch and some of them I have known for the 21 years we have been living here though in that time the dogs have changed. In this part of Wales t
oo there are a lot of fellow Brummies and they have told me things that I have included in the books sometimes and they love it when I do that.
My family too give me immeasurable support, my husband, Denis and my daughters Nikki and her husband Steve, Beth, Tamsin and soon-to-be-husband, Mark and my son Simon and his wife Carol. The grandchildren are a source of delight, Briony now in a flat of her own that she shares with Josh and working in a lab which is what she wanted to do, and Kynan at Sixth Form College beavering away for his A levels, Jake is studying for his GCSEs and Theo, who becomes a teenager this year, is also working hard and doing well. As for Catrin, now three and a half, she keeps the rest of us laughing for she is a sunny-natured, happy little girl very like her mother and it is a pleasure to have her around. I often feel very blessed to have them all.
Another group that I am a member of and I feel very grateful to are the “Novelistas” that this book is dedicated to. We meet once a month and I hate missing a meeting for the company is good and we have a lot of fun, though we do discuss issues to do with writing and listen to everybody’s news as well. Book launches mean that there is cake after the nice lunch and bubbly for the toast and really there is not a lot to dislike.
I have left the most important group of people to last and that is you the readers for without you there would be no point in my writing a word. A special thanks to the very many who write to me, I appreciate every letter. There has been a long wait for this book “A Girl Can Dream” and I hope now it is on the shelves you enjoy it as much as any of the others. To each and every one of you I owe an immense debt of gratitude.
About the Author
Anne Bennett was born in a back-to-back house in the Horsefair district of Birmingham. The daughter of Roman Catholic, Irish immigrants, she grew up in a tight-knit community where she was taught to be proud of her heritage. She considers herself to be an Irish Brummie and feels therefore that she has a foot in both cultures. She has four children and five grandchildren. For many years she taught in schools to the north of Birmingham. An accident put paid to her teaching career and, after moving to North Wales, Anne turned to the other great love of her life and began to write seriously. In 2006, after 16 years in a wheelchair, she miraculously regained her ability to walk.