by Pamela Evans
Chapter Eight
Joe was having a whale of a time at the tea party to celebrate his second birthday in February 1940. It didn’t matter to him that the cake his grandmother had managed to cobble together had only a fraction of the sugar ingredient required since it was now on ration along with butter, eggs and many other essential food items. He was at the centre of attention and had gathered a whole collection of new toys, so life was good and his countenance, a miniature of his father’s, was glowing with excitement.
‘Methinks it’s time the visitors departed,’ Betty said to May confidentially. The tots were growing tired and fretful and Joe had got so overexcited that he was running round the room in circles, finally falling over and erupting loudly into tears.
‘I’ll see to him,’ said May, picking him up and sitting down with him on her lap at the kitchen table, cuddling and fussing him. ‘You go and say goodbye to the guests.’
Betty did as she suggested, fetching coats for the young mums she had got to know since having Joe, and their offspring.
‘You’re very good with him, May,’ remarked Dot, who was making an after-party cuppa to revive them.
‘I simply adore him, Mrs Bailey,’ May told her.
‘So do I, but I’m not good with little kids now,’ she confessed sadly. ‘I seem to have lost the knack since mine were small. Joe plays up something terrible on the odd occasion that I have to look after him, and it isn’t often for that reason.’
‘I’m sure you’ll get it back at some point,’ suggested May, who always felt rather sorry for George’s mother. Sheila and Betty were openly irritated by her nervous disposition, which seemed cruel as she obviously couldn’t help it. When she wasn’t in one of her states she was pleasant company. ‘I don’t suppose you lose that sort of thing for ever.’
‘Maybe not.’ Dot observed how comfortable May was with Joe. ‘Would you like a kiddie of your own, dear?’
‘Oh yes, at some point,’ said May without hesitation.
‘You’ll have to have a word with that young man of yours about it then, won’t you?’ she suggested lightly, pouring hot water into the pot and swilling it round.
May grinned but didn’t say anything. She was busy wiping Joe’s nose.
‘You’ve been going out with him for a while now, haven’t you?’ persisted Dot.
‘Only since last summer.’
‘It must be fairly serious to have lasted that long.’
‘We do get on very well,’ responded May.
This was true. She and Doug enjoyed each other’s company enormously. Since last autumn, when his moods had come out into the open, they’d had a great time, give or take one or two of his downers. He’d been more charming and affectionate than ever, had taken her out and about to dances and the cinema and had been very attentive. He had even told her that he loved her. But he never mentioned a future for them or even hinted at anything in the long term. Each date was made from one to the next, as if they had just met.
‘Perhaps he’ll have something special to ask you before long,’ said Dot.
‘It’s still quite early days, Mrs Bailey,’ May said. ‘You can’t rush these things, can you?’
‘I dunno about that,’ she said, chortling. ‘Your pal Betty didn’t waste any time, did she?’
May grinned at Dot’s directness. ‘That was a bit different, wasn’t it?’ she said.
Fortunately for May, who didn’t want to get drawn into a discussion about her friend’s personal life, Betty came into the kitchen.
‘Phew, thank Gawd those kids have gone home,’ she said. ‘It’s a good job you only have a birthday once a year, Joey boy, ’cause I couldn’t put up with that lot of monsters invading us more often than that.’ She sat down at the table. ‘Can I smell tea, Mrs B?’
‘Coming up,’ said Dot.
‘Can you pour one for me please, Mum?’ said Sheila, entering the room and sitting down at the table. ‘I was wondering if it would be safe to come back into the house yet, but I can see the little treasures have gone.’ She looked towards Joe, who was eating a biscuit rather messily. ‘Did you like having your mates round, darlin’?’
‘Yeth,’ he replied.
‘How come you are here, May, and not behind the counter at the Pavilion?’ asked Sheila.
‘Dad stands in on a Saturday afternoon and Mum and I take it in turns to have the afternoon off,’ she explained.
‘Good for him,’ said Sheila. ‘How are you getting on with ration books to cope with?’
‘All right now that we’re getting used to them,’ she replied. ‘It’s extra work, though; what with that and going out delivering the papers in the morning we certainly feel as though we’ve done a day’s work at the end of it.’
‘Why are you delivering the papers?’ asked Sheila.
‘To cut the cost of paying the paper boys,’ she replied. ‘Our takings are down because of rationing and shortages of things that aren’t on ration, so we need to cut our outgoings.’
‘Blimey, the war, eh?’ she commiserated. ‘What a pain.’
‘Still at least we haven’t had any air raids,’ said May.
‘Mm, it’s all a bit peculiar if you ask me,’ said Betty. ‘Rationing has started, we’re all kitted out with gas masks and air-raid shelters, but where is the war?’
‘Don’t say that,’ said Dot nervously. ‘I hope the air raids never happen.’
‘At least you’ve had your man come home for a couple of weekends since he was called up,’ said Sheila. George had had two forty-eight-hour passes. ‘There’ll be none of that if he’s sent overseas.’
‘True,’ said Betty casually. ‘He doesn’t seem to know what will be happening, though, when he writes.’
‘They’re not allowed to say much in their letters,’ said Sheila.
‘From what I’ve heard they aren’t told much either,’ May put in. ‘Just in case they let anything slip.’
‘There are German spies all over the place apparently, passing themselves off as ordinary people,’ remarked Sheila. ‘Careless talk costs lives, as the slogan goes.’
‘Creepy,’ said Betty. ‘I think they should stop the war right away, and I’m not the only one who thinks that. I’ve heard lots of people say the same thing.’
‘Mm. It does seem a bit pointless. We went into it to defend Poland and now they’ve been crushed,’ said May, who was an avid follower of war news and talked a lot about it. ‘I sometimes wonder why we are continuing.’
‘I think the point is to stop Hitler taking over the world,’ declared Sheila.
‘Yeah, there is that,’ agreed May.
‘Anyway, folks, I’ve got some news,’ began Sheila. She’d chosen her moment carefully because May was here and would be a calming influence in the outrage that was bound to follow her announcement. ‘I’ve been to the recruitment centre and joined the ATS.’
The silence was so powerful it made May’s cheeks burn. ‘Well done,’ she said at last.
‘You can’t go away and leave me all alone,’ said Dot shakily. ‘That’s a cruel thing to do.’
Sheila bit her lip, feeling guilty. ‘But you won’t be on your own, Mum,’ she said at last. ‘Betty and Joe will be here with you. You’ll be all right.’
‘But you’re my daughter, you should be here with me in these troubled times,’ she said. ‘George was made to go away by law, but you don’t have to.’
‘She wants to do her bit,’ said Betty supportively. ‘You should be proud of her. It’s no picnic in the ATS, so I’ve heard. They have to scrub the barrack-room floors and all sorts of horrible jobs.’
‘They have a damned good time from what I’ve heard,’ Dot declared. ‘They are thoroughly disreputable, the lot of them. Out in the pubs every night getting blind drunk and making up to the men.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Betty, making a joke of it. ‘If I wasn’t tied up I might think of joining myself.’
‘It’s disgusting,’ ranted Dot.
‘The women’s services have got a bad name, everyone knows that,’ she replied.
‘It’s just talk,’ said Sheila. At seventeen she was hungry for adventure and independence, and the ATS seemed to be her best chance of getting both. ‘I’ll be able to let you know from experience when I come home on leave. I will be home, Mum. I’m not going away for ever.’
‘Please don’t go,’ begged Dot feebly.
Sheila looked sheepish. ‘It’s something I really want to do,’ she said. ‘Please don’t make it hard for me, Mum.’
‘I’ll be around, Mrs Bailey,’ May put in helpfully. ‘I’ll call in regular to see how you are getting on.’
‘There you are,’ said Sheila. ‘You’ll have plenty of company and support. You’ll enjoy not having me here going on at you all the time, once you get used to it.’
Joe was growing restless and started to whimper. ‘He’s tired,’ said Betty, affectionately ruffling his hair. ‘It’s all the birthday excitement, isn’t it, darlin’?’
‘Shall I get him ready for bed?’ offered May. She loved to do things for Joe and she also felt she needed to exit this increasingly heated and emotional discussion between mother and daughter.
‘Yeah, if you like,’ said Betty, who was always glad of a break from mothering. ‘I’ll come upstairs with you.’
‘Come on then, pickle,’ said May, standing up and carrying Joe towards the door.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Betty said, ‘That’s a turn-up for the flippin’ books, Sheila joining the forces. She said she was thinking about it but I didn’t think she’d actually do it. I shall miss her something awful.’
‘Really?’ said May in surprise. ‘I thought you weren’t all that fond of her.’
‘We don’t always see eye to eye, it’s true, but I don’t fancy the idea of it being just me and old Droopy Drawers.’
‘Betty, you really shouldn’t say such awful things about Mrs Bailey,’ admonished May. ‘She’s George’s mum and she deserves some respect.’
‘But she’s such a flamin’ misery.’
‘So would you be if you’d been through what she has. Anyway, you are living in her house so you ought to be grateful and show it by being nice to her,’ lectured May. ‘As far as I can see, George is the only one in the family who has any patience with her at all. Now that he isn’t around, as his wife it wouldn’t hurt you to try a bit harder with her.’
‘Oh May, you don’t half go on,’ Betty complained.
‘Well if I don’t tell you, who will now that George isn’t around?’
‘Nobody, and that would suit me just fine.’ They had reached the bedroom and Betty fetched Joe’s pyjamas while May laid him on the bed to undress him but started playing with him instead, tickling him and making him squeal with laughter.
‘I bet it would, but you don’t get off that easily, not when I’m around,’ she told Betty.
Betty decided a change of subject was needed. ‘I suppose you’ll be off out dancing tonight,’ she suggested.
‘This being a Saturday, yeah, very probably,’ said May casually.
‘Lucky thing.’
‘I’m not complaining.’
‘I’d love a night out.’
‘Well I’ll look after Joe if you want to go to the pictures one night,’ May offered.
‘Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind, though if you are babysitting, who would I go with?’
‘One of your new mum friends perhaps?’ May suggested.
‘Maybe, sometime.’ She didn’t seem all that keen.
‘Just let me know if you fancy it,’ said May, turning her attention back to her godson. ‘Meanwhile, we have a little boy to get washed and into his jim-jams.’
Joe thought this was very funny and chuckled like mad.
May and Doug did go dancing that night. The Palais was crowded, smoky and vibrant with the heady ambience of people enjoying themselves to the music of Lou Preager. There were servicemen of many nationalities: Dutch, Norwegian, Canadian. Soldiers, sailors and airmen were all here to have a good time and forget the war for a few hours in this palace of pleasure.
Although May was enjoying herself, she was beginning to think that dance halls weren’t such a good idea just now. The abundance of men in uniform and their huge popularity meant that Doug was in a minority, and she knew that he felt it even though he tried to hide it.
Things came to a head when a girl pushed past him and said, ‘Out of the way, civvy, you ought to be in uniform.’
May suggested to Doug that they leave.
‘I won’t be driven out by the ignorant few,’ he said.
So they stayed but May wasn’t comfortable. When they were smooching around the floor to ‘Apple Blossom Time’, a woman dancing nearby with a soldier called out to May, ‘Why are you dancing with someone in civvies when there are plenty of uniforms about? You should be ashamed of yourself.’
‘You’re the one who should be ashamed,’ retorted May, leaving Doug and confronting the woman close up. ‘You want to watch your mouth. You know nothing about my boyfriend or anyone else who isn’t in uniform, so keep your trap shut.’
‘Why, you cheeky cow,’ said the woman, leaving her partner and taking a swing at May, who dodged her punch and grabbed hold of the other woman by the arms.
‘You’re ignorant,’ said May, shaking her, then losing her grip and screaming when her attacker pulled her hair violently.
A crowd gathered and the two women were dragged away from each other by their partners.
‘What did you do that for?’ May demanded of Doug, who was trying to carry on dancing as if nothing had happened.
‘You were making a fool of yourself, and if you’d kept on we’d have been thrown out.’
‘She had no right to say those things.’
‘Maybe not, but we mustn’t rise to it or we’re going to be arguing with people for the rest of the war.’
‘How can you just stand back and let them say such things?’ she wanted to know.
‘Easily,’ he replied. ‘I just let it go over my head.’
‘Well I’m not as calm as you.’
‘So I noticed. I thought you were going to knock her out cold.’
‘And I thought she was going to pull my hair out by every last root,’ May said, laughing nervously in the aftermath. ‘She damn near did as well.’
‘And you such a lady too.’ Doug was trying to make a joke of it, though he didn’t find it funny in the least. ‘I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when you were involved in a dance hall-brawl.’
‘No one is more surprised than I am, but she was saying such awful things about you, and I couldn’t let her get away with it,’ she told him.
‘Thanks for trying to defend me,’ he said. ‘But I’d rather you didn’t. Just ignore it if it happens again.’
‘I can’t promise anything as regards that sort of thing,’ she said. They continued with the dance but the fun had gone out of the evening completely for her. She had obviously embarrassed him and that made her feel even worse than hearing him being insulted. Instinct had driven her to defend someone she cared about and it was too late before she’d realised what she was doing. She’d probably seriously damaged his pride.
Cycling home from May’s with his light facing downwards to comply with blackout regulations, Doug was mulling over the events of the evening. Not the happiest of nights as it happened. May was a great girl, but what sort of a man let a woman get into a fight over him? A pathetic one was the answer to that. He’d never had much in the way of self-esteem but he truly hated himself for being a civilian in a world of servicemen.
Every day he beat himself up about it, but what could he do? If he were to pin a notice on himself saying ‘Medical Reasons For Not Being in the Services’, he’d turn himself into a laughing stock and it wouldn’t make him like himself any more.
He hit a stone in the road a
nd came off his bike with a painful thump. Serves you right for not paying attention, he told himself as he scrambled to his feet rubbing his bruised knees. What a rotten night this had turned out to be.
It was the month of May, the weather was glorious and low public morale had been boosted by the new coalition government headed by Prime Minister Churchill. The news from abroad had been grim all spring and warnings of an imminent German invasion had been stepped up. So someone strong and positive in charge of the country was exactly what people needed.
The Pavilion was full of talk about Mr Churchill and his confidence-building speeches. Café, shop and veranda, the discussion was general.
‘I reckon we might get this war going now that he’s in charge,’ said one of the elderly gents who came to the Pavilion for a cup of tea in the morning when he got his paper. Tea still hadn’t gone on ration.
‘Yeah, it’s given us all some strength and hope,’ said a woman at the counter who was handing her ration books over to May.
‘You want to be supportive to a man like that, don’t you?’ said a female customer wearing a turban over her curlers. ‘Strong and clever. His speech the other day brought tears to my eyes.’
‘Me too,’ said Flo.
‘It was very inspiring,’ agreed May, carefully crossing off the items the customer had bought in the allocated spaces in the ration books and handing them back to her. ‘It makes you want to do your bit, even if it’s only putting up with things like rationing and the blackout.’
There was a general murmur of agreement and the conversation moved on to what was on at the pictures and on the wireless. The Pavilion had always been a meeting place, but people seemed to need it more than ever in these troubled times. May was very glad they were able to provide a spot of company for the locals, even if it was only for a few minutes while they did their shopping.
It often occurred to May that she should be doing war work, but she knew that she was needed here with her mother at the moment. She guessed anyway that she wouldn’t be accepted for the services because of her medical history, but thought it must be a good experience. Since Sheila had joined the ATS she had entertained them with anecdotes about service life when she came home on leave.