by Pamela Evans
Doug proved to be a good dancer and together they waltzed, quickstepped and foxtrotted around the floor. She even attempted the tango and rumba under his guidance.
‘It’s funny how things work out,’ she said to him when they went upstairs to the cafeteria in the interval and sat by the balcony overlooking the ballroom drinking orange squash because alcoholic drinks weren’t on sale here. ‘My best friend longed to come here when we were younger and I wasn’t bothered, but now she’s married with a child and I’m the one out on the town – so to speak.’
‘Is that the friend who stole your boy?’
‘Well he wasn’t mine exactly – we were just kids – but yes, that is the friend. I think she regrets having got married so young now.’
‘So what goes round comes round,’ he suggested.
‘I don’t think about it that way,’ she said.
The band struck up with ‘Moonlight Serenade’, made popular by Glenn Miller.
‘Shall we dance?’ he asked.
‘Yes please,’ she replied, and he took her hand and led her down the stairs to the ballroom.
By the time they played ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight?’ for the last waltz, May was completely intoxicated by the atmosphere as well as her partner and enjoyed the fact that he held her closer towards the end. Their first kiss came near her front gate, out of the light of the lamp-post on the corner. This was her first grown-up romance and she was enjoying every moment.
‘Would you like to come to tea tomorrow?’ she asked, keeping her promise to her mother and also wanting to put their relationship on a respectable footing.
‘I would like that very much,’ he said.
‘Good,’ she said, and he kissed her again, then took her to her door and saw her safely inside before putting on his cycle clips ready for the ride home.
Cycling through Ealing and then Brentford en route for Richmond, Doug was in high spirits following the evening with May. It was still very early days but he had high hopes that things would go from strength to strength between them. He’d been smitten from the day she had first walked into his art class, but hadn’t seen any chance of moving things forward, given the segregation of the sexes at Ashburn and the fact that she was so much younger than he was. The latter seemed to have been solved by the passing of time and her having left her girlhood behind and become a young woman.
The Ashburn Christmas party had given him a chance to speak to her, but then she had disappeared to have surgery and he had been discharged. It had seemed their paths would never cross again and he had dismissed her from his mind.
Then, in Richmond one day, the sight of a bus going to Ealing Broadway reminded him of her suddenly and registered with new significance. He remembered her telling him about her home district and the Green Street Pavilion, which couldn’t be that hard to find. He hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from Ashburn so had had no idea if she had come through the operation or was alive or dead, but he’d become determined to find out. How glad he was now that he’d made that decision, because she was lovely and he adored her.
A shadow darkened his mood as he reflected on the reality of his personal situation. The fact was that he ruined everything good in his life and had lost everyone he really cared for, even his parents. This time it would be different, he would make sure of it, because May was very special.
His buoyant mood returned as he pedalled over Kew Bridge and onwards to Richmond, through the town and along the towpath to his beloved boat nestled there in the shadows; his home, his sanctuary and his favourite place ever. It was full of memories of happier times, of childhood with his parents, when life had been simple and he had been an uncomplicated little boy.
The atmosphere in the Stubbses’ living room when they sat down at the tea table the next day was so uncomfortable that May longed for it to be over. Her father had been ordered by his wife not to ask Doug any questions so he was being sulkily silent, her mother was overcompensating by talking too much and May was squirming with embarrassment.
‘So you enjoyed the dance last night then, Doug?’ said Flo in a speedy, nervous tone.
‘Yes, it was very good,’ he replied, seeming quite relaxed considering the circumstances. ‘I like to trip the light fantastic every now and again.’
‘I used to enjoy dancing, though it was the Lancers in our day,’ Flo told him.
‘Oh,’ said Doug in surprise. ‘Didn’t they have things like the Charleston back then?’
‘Our dancing days were over by the time that came in,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that right, Dick?’
No response.
‘Dick, I’m talking about when we used to go dancing at the town hall, remember?’
‘Humph.’
‘Dad,’ said May, glaring at her father.
The ensuing silence was agonising. Dick was showing his awkward side at its very worst and May was almost beside herself. Then Doug saved the day, having spotted something in the back garden through the window.
‘I see that you’ve had your Anderson shelter delivered, Mr Stubbs,’ he remarked, looking determinedly at the older man.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Then, as four female eyes stared at him, daring him to ignore Doug at his peril, Dick said, ‘Yes, it came the other day.’
‘I’ve heard that they’re not all that easy to erect,’ said Doug chattily.
‘They’ve given me some instructions, so it shouldn’t be too bad,’ the other man replied.
‘How far down will it have to go?’ Doug enquired, sounding interested.
‘Four foot deep, seven foot six long and six foot wide,’ Dick informed him.
‘Quite a job digging it out then, before you even start fixing the corrugated-iron sheets into place.’
‘Oh yeah, it’ll keep me busy all right.’
‘I can give you a hand if you like,’ Doug offered.
‘I’m not thinking of doing it today,’ Dick responded.
‘How about next weekend?’ suggested Doug with enthusiasm. ‘I could come over and we can do it together.’
Dick narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you up to that sort of physical work?’ he asked. Doug was very lean, with a look of frailty about him.
‘I’m a lot stronger than I look,’ he replied. ‘We weedy types often are.’
‘Mm, oh well, if you’re sure, let’s do it next weekend,’ said Dick with the beginnings of a smile. ‘It will be good practice for you for when you do your own.’
‘I shall have to rely on the public shelters in the event that we ever need them,’ Doug explained. ‘The nearest thing I have to a back garden is the towpath.’
‘Yes, I suppose it would be,’ said Dick.
The ice was broken. Dick relaxed and things went swimmingly after that, especially when he discovered that he and Doug both supported the same football team, Brentford.
‘I thought it was rather a drastic measure, offering to build an air-raid shelter just to get into your girlfriend’s father’s good books. But it worked, so well done,’ May said later when she and Doug were out for a walk.
‘I don’t really mind helping out, and it was well worth it to see him smile.’
‘I wonder if you’ll be smiling next weekend when you have to do all that digging.’
‘I’m not a weakling, you know,’ he pointed out, ‘and I’m good with my hands.’
‘Using a paintbrush rather than a heavy garden fork, though,’ she teased him.
‘You just wait and see,’ he said laughingly.
As it happened, the following weekend turned out to be a very happy occasion, as Doug became at ease with her parents. The weather was fine so May and her mother spent the time outside in the garden doing some weeding and tidying while the men worked on the shelter, the whole thing interspersed with breaks for tea and Flo’s home-made jam sponge and scones.
When the shelter was finished, they each climbed in to try it out. To May it was like being entombed in a chilly and damp understairs cupboard
that smelled earthy and slightly sour.
‘We won’t actually have to use the shelters, will we?’ she said when they were all back in the garden. ‘It is just a precaution, don’t you think?’
‘Depends on Mr Hitler,’ said Flo.
‘Surely the government won’t let war happen,’ said May.
‘They are spending enough money to protect us all from it,’ said Dick. ‘So they must think it’s a definite possibility.’
‘Oh well, let’s hope it doesn’t happen, but what comes comes, I suppose,’ said May chirpily. ‘We’ve got our shelter so we’ll be ready for it.’
‘Thanks for helping me, mate,’ said her father to Doug. ‘I’m much obliged.’
‘A pleasure,’ said Doug.
May’s heart soared. Having Doug involved with her family meant a lot to her.
As week followed week, May’s life was increasingly enhanced by Doug’s presence in it. He spared no effort or expense to entertain her. They went dancing and to the cinema; out for tea and for dinner in the West End. When she queried the money he was spending on her and offered to make a contribution, he wouldn’t hear of it.
‘I’ve sold a good few paintings lately,’ he explained, ‘so don’t worry about it. We might as well enjoy ourselves if we are all going to be either blown to bits by bombs or invaded by the Germans.’
There was some of this feeling around in general, May had noticed. The cinemas, dance halls and pubs always seemed to be packed as the signs of war grew ever more evident and people looked for escape.
One person who wasn’t out enjoying herself was Betty.
‘You lucky thing,’ she said to May one Wednesday afternoon when they were together in the playground with Joe. ‘Out nearly every night of the week, being taken to lovely places, while I never go anywhere.’
‘You were the one who wanted excitement, not me,’ said May. ‘But I’m enjoying every moment. I might as well while I have the opportunity.’
‘All my craving for excitement got me was pregnancy,’ mourned Betty. ‘I got married far too young.’
‘You’re all right, though, aren’t you?’ queried May. ‘You’ve got his nibs here, and George seems good to you.’
‘George is all right and I wouldn’t be without Joe, of course,’ said Betty. ‘But I did get married too young and I resent having missed the fun and excitement I could have had.’
‘We’re ordinary working-class girls, Betty,’ May pointed out. ‘The social whirl you think you missed doesn’t happen to people like us. That sort of thing is for the upper classes.’
‘How come you’re having it, then, tell me that?’ Betty wanted to know.
‘Mine is an unusual case,’ May told her. ‘I just happened to meet someone from a different background, but I’d never have met him if I hadn’t been ill and out of my normal environment for a while. So I suppose you could say that it’s God’s way of making it up to me for giving me TB.’
‘I don’t think it works like that,’ Betty said lightly. ‘But honestly, May, I really think that all the pleasure and excitement is wasted on you because you never really wanted it.’
‘No, I didn’t especially, and it wouldn’t worry me if I didn’t have it now. But as I do have it, I’m not afraid to enjoy myself.’
May had a sudden and unexpected realisation that shocked her. She had thought that her emotions were on an even keel now and that she was completely content. Yes, she was having a great time with Doug, but she knew in that moment that she would willingly trade it for what Betty had: marriage to George.
‘Mm, anyway, what about this boat of his?’ Betty was saying, which recalled May back to the present. ‘What’s it like?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t been there.’
‘Blimey, girl, you’re slipping, aren’t you?’ said Betty. ‘If it was me, I’d be dying to have a nose around. You want to get yourself over to Richmond sharpish.’
‘He always comes over this way to call for me,’ May explained. ‘So it’s never really come up.’ She gave a wry grin. ‘Except from Mum and Dad, who are terrified he’ll take me there and have his way with me.’
Betty laughed. ‘That’s normal for parents, but there’s no need to tell them you’re going there,’ she said. ‘Get him to take you so you can see what he’s worth. Then you can tell me so I’ll know exactly what I’m missing.’
‘Don’t be horrible, Betty. You’ve got a hell of a lot to be thankful for.’
‘Just being myself.’
‘Let’s give Joe a go on the swings,’ May suggested quickly, upset by her realisation of her feelings for George. She took hold of the pushchair containing her adored godson. ‘Be content with what you have and stop yearning for more.’
May did follow Betty’s advice and arrange to visit Doug’s boat. Not because she wanted to see what he was worth but so that she could picture him in his own environment when they weren’t together. Despite Betty’s advice she did tell her parents where she was going and nothing much was said, either because they had learned to trust Doug or because they had finally accepted the fact that their daughter was an adult.
Doug met her off the bus in Richmond on Sunday afternoon and they headed for the river hand in hand. The weather had been glorious this summer and today was no exception. It was sunny and warm, with a light breeze. Since it was the weekend, the riverside was crowded with people and there were plenty of pleasure boats on the water.
‘Here she is,’ he said, stopping by an elegant blue and white craft called Sands Nest which was moored near some willow trees on a stretch of the river away from the town.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ said May, impressed. ‘I’ve never been on a houseboat before.’
He helped her on board and led the way down into the cabin, which had lots of polished wood and two small fitted sofas in red. It smelled pleasantly of oil and paint, and there were pictures around the walls.
‘Are they your work?’ she asked.
‘Some but not all,’ he said. ‘The river ones are mostly mine but I enjoy collecting work by other artists.’
She knew next to nothing about art but they looked good to her and she said so before they returned to talking about the boat and her admiration of it.
‘It suits me, though it isn’t huge,’ he said. ‘I have everything I need here. The sofa pulls out into a bed, the table folds away if I want more space. The coal stove keeps me warm in winter and I have the usual conveniences through the sliding door.’
‘I think it’s wonderful,’ she said.
‘Glad you like it,’ he responded, looking pleased. ‘I’ll make us some tea and we can have it on deck as the weather is so nice. I bought some cakes, too. They won’t come anywhere near the standard of your mum’s home-made ones, but although I can make myself a fairly decent meal, my skills don’t run to baking.’
May smiled, feeling warm towards him and very glad that she had come.
‘I have most of my meals up here when the weather is good,’ he told her later when they were having tea in the sunshine. ‘Even in winter if it’s fine I wrap up well and come up here. I’ve always been a bit of a fresh-air fiend, but Ashburn gave me a real passion for it.’
‘It’s a wonder it didn’t put us all off for life, the amount we had there.’
‘Sometimes so cold, too,’ he said.
‘Oh yes, I still shiver when I think of Ashburn,’ she said. ‘I think being cold is my strongest memory of the place.’
‘I must say I choose only nice weather now that I can decide for myself.’
‘We have a lot to thank the place for, though.’
‘Indeed,’ he said.
‘Do you still have to go to the chest clinic to get checked over?’
He nodded. ‘Only once a year now.’
‘Me too. But apart from that, and the wonky shoulder the operation left me with, I’m fine.’
‘No off days?’ he asked.
‘I know if I’ve been overdoing things,�
� she said. ‘But my breathing is fine. Amazing how you can manage with only one lung, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, it is.’
May burst out laughing. ‘Just listen to us. We sound like a couple of old codgers sitting here discussing our ailments.’
He laughed too and they moved on to other things, carefully avoiding any talk of war. May was slightly conscious of their illness being their main connection. Still, Doug was a lovely bloke and she enjoyed being with him, so she supposed it didn’t really matter.
They stayed on the deck all afternoon, drinking tea and chatting. This really was the most romantic setting, with the sun shining on the water, the birds singing and a handsome man by her side. She smiled suddenly.
‘Come on, share the joke,’ he said.
‘No joke,’ she assured him. ‘I was just thinking how perfect all of this is.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ he agreed.
What she didn’t mention was how enthralled Betty would be when she related this scenario to her. This would truly be the movie-style romantic scene her friend had always dreamed of.
Chapter Seven
When it was announced on the wireless in August that Russia had entered into a non-aggression pact with Germany, most people reluctantly accepted that war was now inevitable. The Pavilion was buzzing with it.
‘Gawd knows what will become of us all,’ said one woman who had called to buy a pound of sugar.
‘War hasn’t been declared yet,’ pointed out May, clinging stubbornly to her optimistic streak. ‘They still might be able to stop it. Let’s look on the bright side.’
‘No chance of them stopping it now,’ said another customer to murmurs of agreement. ‘Things have gone too far for that.’
‘We’ll just have to hope it doesn’t last long then, won’t we?’ suggested, May determinedly.
‘The papers seem to think it won’t drag on like the last war,’ said a man who had come in for a newspaper.
‘Well if the Germans are going to bomb us, we won’t be around to care,’ said someone, laughing nervously. ‘So there’s no point in worrying about it.’