by Tania Crosse
Ada must have heard her thoughts. ‘Well, we’ve still got plenty of butter in the fridge,’ she informed Penny, ‘so I propose putting the fruit into soak today and making the cake tomorrow. And I could always use a bit of margarine if I had to. Oh, Meg, there you are. I think we’d better only make your wedding cake two tiers, though, if that’s all right.’
‘Oh, Ada,’ Meg beamed back, since under Penny’s influence, they were all on first name terms now. ‘I’m sure that’d be lovely! But I reckon just one tier will be enough for us all to have a slice.’
‘Ain’t you got no one else ter invite, then?’ Penny asked sympathetically. ‘No aunts or uncles or cousins or nuffing?’
Meg shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t. Ralph has an old uncle in the Midlands, but he can’t travel. Mrs C has said I can invite Mr and Mrs Fenshaw, the people who took over my old home, if they can leave the farm for the day. They’re really nice. But other than that, you’re all the friends and family I need.’
‘And Gaud bless you, my dear, for making us feel so welcome.’
Meg held her breath as Penny stepped forward. She knew she was in for one of the woman’s bear hugs, and to be honest, Penny seemed to fill the whole house with her capacity for expressing her love for everyone.
When she managed to extricate herself, Meg made her way up to the attic and the eaves cupboard where Nana May had helped her store the various items she’d brought from the farm three years earlier. She hadn’t been able to transport much, but she hadn’t looked at what she had in all that time. She knew by the weight which box contained her mother’s best tea service, and also some everyday dinner plates, bowls and cups and saucers which nevertheless still held sentimental value for her. If her memory served her rightly, she’d packed a couple of tablecloths around the china to protect it. They’d need pressing before they could be used, but she wouldn’t unpack them until she’d carried the box over to the cottage.
She and Ralph had spent all their spare time the previous week repainting the kitchen and black-leading the range that Mrs Durr had left in a state. Now as Meg carefully unpacked her mother’s things, the old ache raked at her throat, but at the same time, she felt a certain pride that they were going to be used again in a happy home. She had to crush all her fears that it might not be for long. Since Ralph had gone off for his interview with the RAF.
Meg stowed the tea service safely in a cupboard, but the ordinary crockery that she’d need to hand, she stored in the dresser that they’d painted red and white to match the curtains she was making. She opened the drop-down door that served as extra work surface, and started to make a mental list of what she’d need to stock up on. The sugar ration might be generous now, but that could change. What would be next? Tea, maybe? Anything that had to be imported. But at least those two items would keep.
Oh, she was so happy! She was getting married in a month’s time to a man she loved to distraction, she would be wearing a bridal gown she couldn’t have imagined in her wildest dreams, and they would be having their reception at a beautiful country house. If only her parents had been there to witness her special day, but she was sure they’d be there in spirit.
Just then, she heard a little whine. When she looked down, Thimble was gazing up at her with pleading eyes, ball between her jaws. Meg had to laugh. Time for a game. And with a skip in her step, she made for the door.
*
The day they were married dawned crisp and sparkling. The entire household walked through the frost and lingering snow to the village church, but Wig drove Nana May, Ralph and his parents and Jane, and then made a return trip for Meg and Clarrie and the younger bridesmaids. A bit of a squeeze, but the Daimler was a big motorcar.
Wrapped in Mrs C’s fur stole, Meg tried to contain her excitement. She couldn’t wish to have a nicer person than Mrs C beside her. She knew that her parents would have been more than happy for her. She had a new family now. And a new home.
As she walked down the aisle on Wig’s arm, the train of the gown swept the aisle of the church. A radiant smile spread across her face as the guests turned to greet her, among them Mr and Mrs Fenshaw who’d been chuffed to accept her invitation. And then her heart jumped with excitement as she saw Ralph’s tall, straight back, his trimmed, wavy hair just touching on his collar. Beside him, his father was just a little stooped, so proud to step in as best man since Bob couldn’t get leave. And Meg felt herself fill up with joy.
When Ralph turned to watch his bride come to pledge herself to him, the vision robbed him of his breath. She looked like a princess from a fairytale book, floating in a froth of silk and lace. Her red gold hair fell in a shining curtain about her shoulders, and when she glided to his side and lifted the veil, her face shone with a heavenly radiance that made his heart bounce with pride.
As for Meg, she was determined to block all thoughts of war from her head. This was her and Ralph’s special day, and she wasn’t going to let anything spoil it. He looked so handsome, a soft, adoring smile parting his lips, and his brown eyes gleaming. She’d never seen him in a suit before, but it did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and slender hips. Her parents would have approved wholeheartedly of her husband-to-be, she knew. If they were looking down, they would bestow their every blessing. And they would also have been pleased that the man giving her away had also won a place in her heart.
Clarrie sat in the front pew on the bride’s side of the church, cradled in fathomless contentment. Nana May was seated next to her, their hands resting firmly together, both proudly sharing this day, and knowing but not needing to say what it meant to them. For Clarrie, this was Rosebud’s special day, a day she never thought she’d see. As she gazed on the back of the bride, in her mind’s eye was another face, rounder, the hair a more fiery red, the face of a child. For who knew how Rosebud would have changed as she grew?
After Wig had performed his duty at the altar steps and came to sit by her side, Clarrie glanced up at him, still so handsome even if his hair was threaded with silver. He was her life, and this was their daughter’s wedding day.
Meg passed the day in a haze of euphoria that she would never forget. Back at Robin Hill House, the war was far from everyone’s minds as they celebrated in style. They kept the traditional speeches short and sweet. After all, everyone knew what a joyous occasion it was, and with so many little ones struggling to sit still on their chairs, it wouldn’t be fair to prolong the formalities.
After clearing away a sit-down dinner in the dining room, the men moved the furniture to one side and rolled back the carpet. Wig carried in his gramophone and played some dance music to get the party going. There was bottled beer for the men. The twins were allowed one bottle between them seeing as they wouldn’t take no for an answer and insisted their parents had let them have the odd sip. Wig had provided champagne, sherry and brandy, and Gabriel had donated bottles of his home-made elderflower and gooseberry wine. Ada had made a gallon of lemonade for the children and anyone who didn’t want alcohol.
During any lull in the proceedings, Penny stepped in with the Hokey-Cokey or led a conga all round the house, which the children adored. Penny’s chins wobbled as she wept with joy and went round hugging everyone. Later on, the twins buzzed about importantly, fetching and carrying Ada’s tasty fayre as afternoon tea was served, the three girls were behaving like little ladies, and all the little ones played in complete oblivion to the occasion. All in all, it was such a tremendously happy day and when it was time for the happy couple to retire to the little cottage, everyone wished them well, and Sally was thrilled when she caught Meg’s bouquet.
‘Come here, Mrs Hillier,’ Ralph invited his new wife, his voice thick, after he’d carried her over the threshold.
‘I’ll have to get used to that Mrs Hillier,’ Meg chuckled softly.
‘And you’ll have to get used to obeying me,’ Ralph teased, ‘as you’ve vowed before God to do so.’
‘Oh, I don’t think we’ll take that too literally!’ Me
g giggled back, slightly tipsy.
‘Well, if you won’t come to me, I’ll just have to come and get you!’
Ralph sprang across the small room and Meg squealed with nervous delight as he scooped her in his arms and carried her upstairs. He placed her on her feet in the bedroom, both laughing like children, but as Meg caught her breath, she saw Ralph’s beloved face become still.
‘Much as you look divine in that dress,’ he said huskily, ‘you’d look even better without it.’
Meg gulped. ‘You’ll have to help me. It fastens down the back.’
‘I’d be delighted.’
Meg had already removed the veil during the glorious reception Wig and Clarrie had provided. Now, as she turned her back, she pulled her hair over one shoulder to make it easier for Ralph. As she felt his fingers fumbling with the buttons, his mouth nibbled at her neck with tiny kisses. Slowly she felt the tight bodice loosen. Ralph’s hands slipped unexpectedly under the material, and she gasped with pleasure as he fondled her breasts. She leant back against him, her body tingling as shockwaves plunged down to that secret place between her thighs.
Ralph slipped the garment from her shoulders and it fell to the floor.
‘I’d better…’ she faltered.
But Ralph anticipated her thoughts and, picking up the dress, laid it carefully over the chair. Someone – Jane probably – had lit the fire, and Ralph removed the spark guard and threw on another log.
‘Now then, Mrs Hillier,’ he croaked almost inaudibly, and slowly and delectably, began to peel off her underwear.
Eleven
‘Oh, my Gaud, what the blazes do they expect us ter live on?’ Penny complained one morning in March when Ada Phillips reminded everyone present that a new form of rationing was to start that day. ‘First it was butter and sugar and bacon, and now it’s blooming meat. My poor Archie’s thin enough as it is. He’ll waste away on this! I thought it was Hitler what wanted ter starve us ter death, not our own government!’
‘The whole point is to eke things out so no one starves, and that shopping for food is easier than in the last war,’ Meg said patiently, as ever amused at Penny’s turn of phrase.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Penny sighed. ‘But we’re all gonna be as thin as rakes before this business is over.’
Meg had to smile to herself. She could never imagine Penny with a sylph-like figure if she had nothing to eat for a whole year!
‘Meat’s going to be rationed by price rather than weight, mind, Penny dear,’ Ada informed her. ‘One and ten pence a week, so you don’t have to worry. Cheaper cuts can go a lot further if you know how to cook them. And if we pool all our rations, we’re not going to starve by a long chalk. I’ll make sure you don’t,’ she assured her friend, ‘and I’m in charge.’
‘And a blooming good job, too. I know it’s the only way ter do it, and I’ve learnt such a lot about cooking from you, Ada. When this flipping war’s over, my Archie’s gonna think he’s dining at the flaming Ritz every day!’
Once again, Meg’s lips curved up in amusement. From what she’d gathered, Penny had fed her family on potatoes, bacon and sausages, and the occasional pot of jellied eels. But she supposed that was all you knew if you were brought up in certain parts of London. Now that Penny’s eyes had been opened to fruit and vegetables and nourishing stews, her ideas about food had changed radically. And with her Archie having a good, steady job on the railways, it wasn’t as if they were that poor. It was merely a lack of knowledge. For the umpteenth time in her life, Meg thanked her lucky stars that she’d been brought up in the country, producing their own vegetables, milk and eggs, taking certain cuts for themselves when a pig was sent to slaughter, and cooking any hen that had ceased to lay.
As if following her thoughts, at that precise moment, Clarrie burst into the kitchen with the three girls, laughing at some encounter and carrying the day’s collection of eggs. Meg couldn’t help noticing the animation on Mrs C’s face as she chatted away with her young charges. It was strange how she’d seemed to blossom with the arrival of the evacuees. And you wouldn’t have found her seeking out eggs before. But then she seemed to have really taken to heart the idea that everyone needed to pull together for the war effort.
Doris, too, had found her feet in the six months since coming to Robin Hill House. She still wouldn’t go near the cows or even the pigs, but Meg was glad to see that she was perfectly relaxed around all the dogs, and also the hens. Doris still missed her parents terribly, but Mr and Mrs Sergeant tried to visit once a month, which meant it wasn’t quite so bad for their young daughter.
‘Meat rationing starts today, Mrs C,’ Ada reminded her mistress.
‘Yes, I know, Ada,’ Mrs C replied. ‘But I’m sure you’ll still keep us all adequately fed. And we’ve plenty of other things to eat. Now then, girls, let’s see how many eggs we need today, and whether there’ll be any left to preserve.’
‘We won’t go short of eggs, though, will we, with the hens?’ Joyce questioned. ‘And they’re not on ration.’
‘Not yet,’ Penny put in glumly. ‘But they probably will be before we know it. So, best be prepared, eh, Ada?’
‘Yes, but I’ll need all of those eggs to make a birthday cake for young Ed. His mum and dad are coming down to celebrate with him at the weekend. Such a happy, chatty little soul. We’re having a little party for him, aren’t we, Mrs C? Mr Gabriel’s making him a toy aeroplane, and I think everyone’s making a present of some sort for him. Just like we did for you, Joyce, on your birthday. Mind you, I didn’t make a cake for you. Not with your dad being a master baker and bringing one for you, anyway. And the pastry you two girls make is better than mine, too!’ Ada grinned, dipping her head at the sisters who both blushed with pride.
All the while as she listened to the conversation, Meg had been thinking about how the new rationing would affect her and Ralph. In the month since they’d been married, she’d been cooking their own meals on the range in the cottage and so had taken charge of both their ration books. It had really made her feel as if they were man and wife, living an idyllic existence in the countryside. She looked after the animals, with Cyril’s help now, and Ralph tended the vegetables in the kitchen garden and greenhouses, with the assistance of his father, Leslie and even the girls. Ralph was gradually digging up the lawned terrace as well, in response to the Dig for Victory campaign, and would soon be planting it up with vegetable seedlings. But in the evenings, he and Meg retreated into their own little home, settling down after their meal in front of the open firebox of the range with Thimble curled up at their feet, and finishing the day with a cup of Ovaltine or Cadbury’s Bourn-Vita served in Meg’s mother’s best tea service.
Oh, if only it could go on like that forever. But it wouldn’t. Ralph had learnt that he’d been accepted into the RAF. He’d passed his assessment with flying colours, and was going to train as a pilot.
When he’d told Meg, a rock had solidified in her chest where her heart should have been, and she’d had to fight against the pain. It was the knowing and the waiting that was killing her. Trying to force it to the back of her mind. But it was there, niggling all the time. Every minute of every day. The moment when she would have to say goodbye to him, possibly forever, was coming as surely as night followed day.
*
They stood by the bus stop in a cold April drizzle, Thimble sitting patiently beside them. It was as if they were strangers, not knowing what to say to each other, and yet exploding with a million things they wanted to say, a million words of love, but couldn’t. Meg’s brain was numbed, unable to put her torment into words.
‘I-I just wish…’ she tried to croak, but her throat closed up in agony.
‘I know, my darling.’ Ralph took her hands, his chestnut eyes boring into her own sapphire blue orbs. ‘But I am only going on training. I probably won’t even get off the ground before I come home again on leave.’
‘Maybe. But it’s going to come,’ Meg forced her voice to utter in a
whisper. ‘The war’s not going away. I’d hoped and prayed it would, but now Hitler’s invaded Norway and Denmark, it’s confirmed his intentions. This is just the beginning.’
She saw Ralph give a sharp, almost imperceptible nod of agreement. He was her rock, her one and only. She mustn’t let herself even think about losing him.
A distant rumble made her heart clench. The bus. That would take Ralph away. Coming nearer. They only had a minute.
‘Be careful, my love,’ she murmured, her hands patting his chest, wanting to hold him, keep him safe.
‘I will,’ he promised, and taking her in his arms, enclosed her in his strength.
The engine became louder, she could sense the bus come to a halt beside them, and Ralph’s embrace slackened so that he could deliver one last kiss.
‘Be strong, my darling,’ he whispered as he picked up his case and climbed aboard. And then he turned to wink at her over his shoulder. ‘’Bye, Mrs Hillier. I love you beyond the stars.’
Meg watched, her heart bleeding, as the bus’s wheels began to turn. Ralph waved at her from his seat by the window, smiling, and then she couldn’t see him anymore as the bus chugged around the bend at the far end of the village green, and was gone.
Meg stood for a moment, her soul empty, tears trickling down her cheeks. She brushed them away. Didn’t want anyone she knew in the village to see her cry. And what Ralph had said was right. It would be some time before he was actually flying. But it would come. Hadn’t that Winston Churchill said that the war would be fought in the skies? Something inside Meg froze solid.
‘Come on, Thimble.’
Struggling to pull herself together, she tugged on the lead and the dog stood up and shook herself before they turned back down the lane. Meg was so glad she’d brought the collie with her. She was company on the lonely walk home. But when they were only partway along, Meg felt moisture misting her vision again, and she was suddenly helpless against the tears that welled in her eyes.