Brighter Days Ahead

by Mary Wood

  ‘There’s a mirror over the sink – go on, it’ll look good on you. I put some on my cheeks and rub it in; it saves me buying rouge. You don’t need to do that, though, as you’ve got a lovely complexion, Molly.’

  Seeing her reflection cheered Molly. ‘Ooh, you’ve made my hair look like Gloria Swanson’s did in that film, Music in the Air. You know, when she wore that beautiful gown with the frills on? I love it.’ Touching the rolls of her hair at the nape of her neck, Molly stretched her head this way and that. ‘We should go to a film. How about on Tuesday? That’s your half-day, ain’t it?’

  ‘What, after Hitler’s lot flattened the Alcazar Picture House?’

  ‘The Regal’s still standing. Besides, you’re not going to spend the whole of this bloody war being a scaredy-cat, are you?’

  ‘Okay, then. But I’m telling yer, any time we’re out and that bleedin’ siren wails, we’re down the nearest shelter quicker than you can say “Hitler”.’

  Laughing at this, Molly waited while Hettie fetched her purse and cardigan. They didn’t carry handbags these days as it was too much, with the cumbersome gas masks they had to take everywhere they went. The new hairstyle and the wearing of the lipstick had given her confidence and an eagerness to get going. Please let David be in the park, please!

  As they stepped outside, Molly glanced back at her house. The sleek black car hadn’t arrived yet. She linked arms with Hettie and compelled her to move faster.

  ‘Bleedin’ ’ell, Molly, are you afraid your dad will come after you?’

  ‘Yes, quick, let’s get out of sight.’

  Hettie didn’t answer her, but hastened her step. Molly knew she would understand. She’d hidden Hettie many a time, when her own dad had been on the rampage.

  As they hurried along, Hettie held her close. The feel of her soft body gave comfort to Molly and, with it, some of the fear seeped out of her.

  When they reached Fore Street, Molly said, ‘Let’s turn right onto Victoria Road at the bottom of Park Road, then we can turn into Park Lane. I’ll show you where David lives.’

  ‘Oh, all casual, you mean, as if we just happen to be walking along there. Honestly, Molly! We’ll look foolish if he comes out of his gate – he’s bound to recognize yer.’

  ‘He won’t. He’s never looked at me. Besides, it’s a free country. Well, it is at the moment anyway. We’re just out for a walk, that’s all.’

  ‘What, with your hair all done and your lipstick on? You should’ve nipped home and put on that nice frock you have. The patterned one with the lilac flowers. I love that one. It would complete the Miss Film Star image.’

  Molly laughed, but the comment had made her aware of her clothes. She pulled her cardigan around her, wincing as she felt the soreness of her arm. She looked like a plain Jane in her pink blouse, straight grey skirt and grey cardigan. Still, it wasn’t as if she’d planned to go out.

  Hettie talking about the lilac-flowered dress seemed to set her off on the subject of clothes. She talked for the next five minutes about a girl who had been into her hairdressing shop that morning in the prettiest of frocks, before moving on to how much her legs ached from standing.

  ‘I usually rest up on a Saturday afternoon, Molly, so you’re lucky. I hope we get to see lover-boy. And if that bleedin’ tea stall isn’t open, I’ll murder yer.’

  Molly didn’t much care if the kiosk was open or not, as they were turning into Park Lane and her heart rate had quickened. ‘There it is, Hettie, that white one with the sloping roof.’ As she said this, David came out of his front door and walked towards his car.

  ‘Say hello then. Go on. We’ve not come all this bleedin’ way for nothing.’

  ‘No, Hettie. I can’t – it would be too forward of me.’

  ‘I will then . . . Hey there, as you live around here, can you tell us if the park kiosk is open on a Saturday afternoon?’

  Molly felt her cheeks burn as David looked at her and recognition showed on his face, and in his question: ‘Don’t I know you?’

  They walked towards him. How she managed to speak, Molly didn’t know. ‘Yes, I – I worked for your dad.’

  ‘Oh yes. I’m sorry about what happened. I couldn’t take over and keep the shop open, I’m afraid. You see, I’m a lawyer and I couldn’t give up my job. I tried to persuade my father to let Phyllis manage the place, but he wouldn’t have it.’

  ‘Yes, it was a shame it closed. I miss working there.’ Humdrum conversation, when inside her heart was thumping and all sorts of longings were assailing her.

  ‘Well, I have to go. I hope you get a cup of tea. I think the kiosk is open.’

  ‘You lawyers exempt from being called up, then?’

  Molly blushed at this forthright question. The subject was a touchy one for Hettie. She tackled any young man she saw who was still in civvies. She imagined they were all conscientious objectors.

  ‘Not all of us, but I’m working in government, so I am exempt for now. I can’t tell you any more, but I’m doing what is needed of me. But I’ll gladly go and fight, if I get the opportunity.’

  ‘You’re not a conchie, then?’

  ‘No, I’m not. Not that it is any of your business, but I’m far from being an objector. How can I be, when I hear the reports of what’s happening to my people in Germany and Belgium?’

  ‘Come on, Hettie. Leave it there.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Miss . . . ?’

  ‘Winters – Molly.’

  David nodded. ‘Well, I have to go. I hope you get another job, Molly.’ He bent down and cranked his car. The engine jumped into life, belching exhaust fumes into their path. Molly felt acute disappointment as David got into the open-topped car and began to reverse it slowly out of the drive. But then he waved to her, causing her legs to feel as though they had turned to jelly. She clutched Hettie’s arm.

  ‘I think you’re in with a chance there, Molly. Come on, I’ll race yer to the kiosk.’

  The fun of running after Hettie, who’d taken off and given herself an unfair start, settled Molly’s excited nerves, and the laughter the chase caused lifted her spirits.

  As they came to the shed-type building that was known as ‘the kiosk’, they slowed down and their laughter quietened. Aggie Blayburn was sitting on the bench near the kiosk. Aggie’s son, Trevor, had been killed in France. Molly guessed that Hettie felt the same as her: that their behaviour was irreverent in the face of Aggie’s grief. They’d known Trevor. Aggie lived in their street and had brought up a family of seven there. Trevor had been the youngest; his older brother was still serving overseas. The rest of the family were girls: three of them worked in the munitions, and two were young mothers who had moved back in with Aggie when their men had been called up.

  There was nothing in Aggie’s eyes when she looked up at Molly and Hettie, and the tone of her voice was flat as she said, ‘Don’t mind me. You enjoy life while yer can, the pair of yer. It’s soon taken away from yer.’

  ‘I’m sorry about your Trevor, Aggie. He were a good bloke.’

  ‘He were, Molly. He had an eye for you, yer know. If he was here now, he’d have been chasing yer round the park. He loved a bit of fun.’

  Molly blushed. She didn’t know what to say, but Hettie, who had a word for every occasion, spoke up. ‘Yer must be proud of him, Aggie. I know I am. I’m always telling me customers what a hero he was. He were one of the first to go. And he didn’t have to be bleedin’ asked.’

  Molly cringed. She wished Hettie wouldn’t swear every time she spoke, but it didn’t seem to bother Aggie, who smiled up at Hettie. ‘Ta, Hettie.’

  ‘I’ll tell yer what, Aggie. Why don’t yer come into me shop on Monday, eh? I ain’t got many customers. I’ll give yer a nice perm. That’ll cheer yer up a bit. Trevor liked to see yer looking nice. Last time I saw him, he said, “Keep me mum’s hair curled while I’m away, Hettie.”’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘I will. Yes, I will. I’ll see ye
r first thing Monday morning. Ta, Hettie.’

  ‘Right, and it’s free. Free to the mother of a local hero.’

  ‘Oh, Hettie. You’re a good girl.’ Aggie wiped a tear away and then got up. ‘Well, I’d better go and get tea sorted for my lot. I’ve sat here long enough with this Rosie Lee. It’s gone bleedin’ cold.’

  Molly laughed; she hadn’t heard Aggie swear before.

  As they watched Aggie go, Molly put her arm around Hettie. ‘That was nice of you, love.’ Hettie was like two people at times: ready to take up the fight with anyone she thought wasn’t toeing the line, and yet kindness itself to anyone who was in need. She was the very best friend you could have. Molly squeezed her a bit tighter, before turning away. ‘I’ll get the tea. I won’t be a moment.’

  As she came back from the kiosk, her mind went over the excitement of actually having spoken to David and of him waving to her. That was something she’d been dreaming about and had longed to happen. Seeing him had made a good day out of a rotten one. A shudder went through her. The encounter with David might have cheered her, but there was still what was happening at home to contend with.

  ‘That was a big sigh, Molly.’

  ‘I know. I was just thinking that we’d better drink this quick and get back. I have to face me dad sometime. He’s having some people over, and he wants me to make some supper for them.’

  ‘I feel sorry for yer, love. I’m used to trouble, but you’re not.’ Molly’s silence must have alerted Hettie. ‘You can always talk to me, yer know.’

  ‘I know. Thanks, Hettie. But you’d be shocked if you knew half of it.’

  ‘Try me. There’s not much that can shock me. It doesn’t do any good to bottle everything up.’

  If only she could tell Hettie. But what good would it do? Hettie can’t stop me dad thinking he can abuse me, or make him protect me from Foggy, or from . . . Molly’s heart sank at the thought of that woman and her two cronies. A picture of the one called Gus, and of how he’d shoved himself at her, came to her mind. A deep dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Molly?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m fine. Come on, let’s go, or I won’t be.’

  ‘I’ll come home with you, if yer like. I’ve got nothing to do tonight.’

  ‘No! I – I mean, thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, but me dad wouldn’t like that. He’s going to be talking business.’

  ‘Where the hell have you been? Don’t think for a minute you can defy me.’

  ‘Don’t, Dad. What’s the point of hitting me? What’s come over you? As if pawing me weren’t enough, you think you can be heavy-handed as well. I’m a person, not an animal. Leave me alone.’

  To her surprise, her dad softened. ‘I’m sorry about earlier, love. Me nerves are all over the place. If this lot don’t come through with the deal they’re talking of, I’ve had it. Everything I’ve ever worked for will go.’

  It was on the tip of Molly’s tongue to say he deserved no less, but at the end of the day he was her dad, and she didn’t really wish anything bad to happen to him.

  ‘They’re in the parlour. See if you can rustle sommat up for them. Foggy cooked off a bit of gammon, and there’s that loaf you queued for this morning. Make some nice sandwiches for them, eh?’

  ‘All right. I’ll do me best. But, Dad, I don’t want to be drawn into anything. I’m scared of them. I’ll serve them, then I’ll go to me room.’

  He didn’t object to this. Molly thought he must have forgotten about the piano-playing. Thank goodness. She hadn’t relished the prospect of being in the company of the gang for longer than she had to be.

  As she set about the task of making sandwiches, she hoped her dad really was sorry about hitting her, and that if things improved for him, he might return to how he’d been a few years ago. A proud man. A fairly well-to-do man, and one who respected his daughter.

  Taking the supper through to the parlour, Molly felt her earlier nerves return and increase in intensity. How she managed to place the tray on the occasional table without dropping it was a miracle.

  ‘Your daughter’s a good-looker, Alf. She could be a good earner.’

  Molly stiffened at Eva’s words. Her dad laughed – a fawning kind of laugh. Molly looked at him, putting into her gaze all the contempt that she dared show.

  ‘Don’t look like he’s got her bleedin’ tamed, Eva. But I’d soon get her in line, if that’s what yer want.’

  A look of shock passed over her dad’s face, and Molly felt a ray of hope enter her. But he didn’t challenge them, just lowered his eyes.

  ‘Shut yer bleedin’ mouth, Gus. Sorry, Alf – boys will be boys, yer know.’ Eva’s laugh cackled around the room, but her eyes stayed on Alf. Molly watched him melt and grin back at her.

  A victory smirk spread across Eva’s face. Her eyes travelled over Molly’s body. ‘Yes, very attractive. I don’t think you know your own worth, girl.’

  It took only a moment for Molly to get through the door and into the hall. Laughter followed her, her dad’s laugh just as loud as the others. A sinking feeling made Molly clasp her stomach, but a noise as if someone was coming to the door got her running for all she was worth up the stairs to her bedroom. With an extreme effort she pulled the chest of drawers across the door, afraid that she would be heard as it scraped along the lino. Once it was in place, she relaxed, though her body didn’t stop shaking. Oh God!

  Her instinct was to fall onto her bed and sob her heart out, but instead she took a deep breath and began to search in the top drawer of the desk. Finding and holding the form she’d been looking for gave her courage. She’d found it weeks ago, on the bus seat on her way to work. Someone had left or discarded it. She would fill it in and post it tomorrow. Then she would wait and hope that the Auxiliary Territorial Service would accept her. She had to escape somehow.

  4

  Flo

  A New World on the Horizon

  ‘Eeh, are you sure you’re after doing the right thing, lass?’

  Flo smiled. Mrs Leary’s Irish accent was always lovely to listen to, but when she peppered it with northern dialect, it sounded funny. Looking up from where she sat at the kitchen table, shelling the peas they’d managed to buy in the market, a feeling of love for this kindly woman seized her. It was easy to love someone who took care of you in a good way, but Mrs Leary was much more to Flo than that.

  ‘Aye, I think so. I hope so, at any rate. I don’t knaw owt about the work, it’s top-secret, and I don’t knaw even if I’m going to be taken on, but I do need a change. And I need to do me bit for the war effort.’

  Throwing yet another rejected pea into the pan beside her, she sighed. Getting hold of fresh food wasn’t easy, and some of these peas had seen better days. Not that any would be wasted. The good pea pods, mixed with any over-tough peas, would be boiled and then simmered for hours. The resulting stock would form the basis of a delicious stew, when the fatty pieces of mutton they’d also managed to buy were added to it. Especially after Mrs Leary performed her magic on it.

  Attempting to change the subject of her possible departure, Flo tried to get Mrs Leary focused on the new girl she’d taken on. ‘Kathy is settling in nicely. She went off to school really happy today.’

  ‘Aye, she’s for being younger than they usually come to me, but she wasn’t for being happy living in the convent. Her daddy hasn’t been dead long. Killed whilst doing his army training, God love him. Though you’ll be knowing that. Her mammy left when Kathy was a wee bairn. How does a woman do that? It beggars belief, so it does.’

  ‘I don’t knaw. By, it’s bad enough when your parents die, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to have them leave you. Eeh, poor lass.’

  A knock at the door stopped their chatter. When Mrs Leary opened it and Flo saw Roland Dinkworth standing there, her cheeks flushed. As much as she didn’t mind knowing about his personal life, she still felt embarrassed that she did.

  Before Mrs Leary could ask who he wa
s, Flo jumped up and went to the door. ‘Hello, um . . .’ Still she stammered over what to call him. After five years of calling him ‘Mr Dinkworth’, she suddenly felt shy about calling him ‘Roland’.

  ‘Are you for knowing this gentleman, Flo?’

  ‘Aye, I’m sorry, Mrs Leary. This is Mr Dinkworth – R-Roland.’

  ‘Be Jesus, the man who has been for changing your life? Come in, come in and make yourself at home. I’m honoured to have you. Though it would be fair to say I’m cross with you, at the same time. I hear you’re after taking me Flo away from me.’

  Flo held her breath. She doubted Roland had ever had such a greeting. But he took it in his stride and laughed as he stepped into the kitchen. His first words set him up as a friend to Mrs Leary. ‘Well, what a lovely kitchen. It feels homely and welcoming, and it smells delicious. And is no more than I would expect, from a woman of your calling. Flo often speaks of you.’

  Mrs Leary looked as though she would burst with pride. ‘That’ll be me steak-and-kidney you’re after getting a whiff of. It’s cooking on me stove, as I’m to be making a pie, so I am.’ She wiped her floury hands on her pinny and half-nodded at Roland. ‘Though I must say, the Good Lord himself knows there ain’t much steak in it, but the bones it once clung to are. So I’m hoping he will do as he did when he turned the water into wine, and make me pie seem as though it is full to the brim with meat.’ Winking, as if they were both part of a conspiracy, Mrs Leary lowered her voice. ‘I’ll be at giving him a helping hand by putting plenty of beans in it, though.’

  Roland laughed again, a genuine laugh, one that made Flo relax. She too felt proud. Proud that Roland would come calling on her; proud of the little place she lived in; and proud of Mrs Leary.

  The kitchen was the heart of the sanctuary that Mrs Leary offered to waifs and strays – Flo included. Spotlessly clean, the room was homely and warm. The cooking range took pride of place. Blacking it and polishing its brass rail and handles each week was a chore that Flo gladly took on. It always rewarded her for her effort, by shining back at her and looking grand. As did the copper pans that hung above it. The red quarry-tiles on the floor gleamed from the mopping and red-leading of them. And the big wooden table was scrubbed on a daily basis and covered with a cloth at mealtimes, though Flo liked to see it in its bare state with a bowl of flowers in its centre. Suddenly she had an overwhelming feeling of love for this – her home – and knew she would miss being here; and miss Mrs Leary too, with all her heart and soul.