Moonlight and Ashes

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘What? You’d trust me to babysit fer your kids knowin’ what I am?’ Jo’s eyes were incredulous.

  ‘What you are is a very nice person,’ Maggie replied kindly. ‘And yes, of course I’d trust you with them.’ She thought she saw the glimmer of tears in Jo’s eyes before she hastily looked away, but then the moment was gone and their talk turned to more serious matters.

  ‘Things are lookin’ bad in London,’ Jo remarked gloomily. ‘The poor buggers there have copped it big time this week, accordin’ to the news. They reckon the bombin’ went on from early evenin’, all through the night an’ on into the next mornin’. They got the docks, the gas station, an’ loads more places. God knows how many poor souls were left dead. Churchill ordered an attack on Berlin to retaliate, an’ that got Hitler all riled up. Gawd, Maggie, he reckons he’s goin’ to reduce the whole of London to rubble now. It’s frightenin’, ain’t it?’ She shivered. ‘I wonder how long it will be before they target Coventry again?’

  Maggie trembled involuntarily at the thought. ‘I don’t know, but I’ve got the shelter all set up just in case. The last time we were bombed I went completely to pieces an’ me mam had to take control of everything. This time I know it will be down to me. Since we lost my dad, me mam barely knows what time it is. Eileen wrote to me last week. She’s selling her house and told me to go round and help myself to anything that I might find useful, so I took a load of blankets and sheets. At least now if we have a raid I won’t have to worry about dragging bedding across to the shelter as well as the children. I’ve even put a torch and some tinned food in so we should be all right.’

  ‘You’re lucky you’ve got somewhere to shelter,’ Jo told her ruefully. ‘If there’s a raid we just have to sit it out. There ain’t room in our yard fer one, an’ even if there were, me mam ain’t fit enough to get to it. Last time, I put the kids under the stairs an’ I sat on the bed an’ held me mam’s hand.’

  Maggie realised that Jo must love her mother very much indeed and was about to say so when Jo went on, ‘How are yer managing on yer own anyway?’

  Maggie shrugged. ‘Not too bad, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep up going to work in the factory. My mam isn’t coping with things all that well since we lost Dad and I feel guilty leaving the children with her every day. Trouble is, I need the money and I can’t think of a job that I could do from home.’

  ‘Mmm . . . I can see your predicament.’ Jo tapped her chin as she pondered, before suddenly declaring, ‘I know what you could do.’

  Maggie raised a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Yer could take in washin’ an ironin’. Yer know - like a laundry service? I know it ain’t the most glamorous of jobs in the world but yer could deliver it back to ’em all washed and ironed.’

  ‘The only problem with that is the weather,’ Maggie pointed out. ‘I’d have to have lines strung everywhere to try and get it all dry. It wouldn’t dry outside if the weather was like this.’

  ‘Mmm, there is that in it.’ Jo glanced around the room as if for inspiration. When her eyes fell on a little dress of Lizzie’s that was hanging on the huge wooden clotheshorse, she asked, ‘Did you make that?’

  When Maggie nodded, Jo walked across to it and fingered it admiringly. The bodice of the dress was intricately smocked and it had little puff sleeves and a broad belt in the same material that tied around the waist. The skirt was full and the pretty round collar was embroidered with tiny flowers.

  ‘This is really beautiful,’ she said admiringly. ‘It must have taken you hours to make it.’

  ‘Not really. I love sewing when I get the time,’ Maggie admitted. ‘I’ve got a Singer sewing-machine in the front room so I make most of the girls’ clothes. It’s much cheaper than buying them.’

  ‘That’s it!’ Jo exclaimed triumphantly. ‘You could set up a sewing business.’

  Maggie looked doubtful, but Jo was excited now. ‘Think about it,’ she urged. ‘Only the other day I heard one o’ the women at work sayin’ she’d managed to get hold of a load of parachute silk for her daughter’s weddin’ dress. Trouble was, she didn’t know anyone who might make it up.’

  Maggie rolled the idea around in her mind. It was plausible, she had to admit.

  ‘Do you really think I’d get enough work to match my wages in the factory?’ she asked dubiously.

  Jo nodded. ‘I ain’t got a doubt about it. I bet if you put your notice in at work and we put the word around about what you intend to do, you’d have a book full of orders before you even left. You could do repairs as well. Remember, people are havin’ to make do since the war started.’

  ‘Do you know, I think you might have hit on something there,’ Maggie smiled and for the next hour they discussed the pros and cons of the idea.

  By the time Jo left, taking with her the clothes Maggie had sorted out for her and a couple of sheets and blankets she had brought from Eileen’s, Maggie was feeling happier than she had in weeks. It came to her with a little shock that it was the first time she’d had a girls’ night with someone close to her own age for years, and she’d enjoyed it immensely. It had soon become apparent that beneath Jo’s brash façade was a loving, caring girl. Somehow, Maggie felt that a friendship had been forged that night that would go from strength to strength.

  As she locked up and put the guard around the fire, she thought again of the proposed new business venture. She liked the idea. She had always enjoyed sewing, and working at home would mean that she could have Lucy with her whilst the twins were at school. It would also enable her to keep more of an eye on her mother. Feeling almost light-hearted, she made her way to bed.

  The very next morning she told May that she would be leaving at the end of the week. May understood her reasons, but told her that she would be missed, for she was a good worker. During the breaks in the works canteen, Maggie then began to spread the word amongst the women of what she intended to do. Just as Jo had predicted, as the week wore on they began to come to her with offers of jobs that they would like her to do.

  When she told Lizzie and Danny of her intentions over dinner that night they both whooped with delight.

  ‘So you’ll be here when we come in from school then?’ Danny asked delightedly.

  Guilt flooded through her as she smiled and nodded. She felt that she had neglected them terribly over the last few months, but fully intended to make up for it now.

  ‘I shall be here all the time again now,’ she promised. In her mind she was already beginning to plan how she would do it. She would see the twins off to school and spend the morning doing her housework, then during the afternoon while Lucy was having her nap she would sew. She could fit in more sewing at night, once the children were in bed. There was already over a week’s work in her order book, and people had begun to deliver repairs and material to her at home, including the parachute silk, which she would make into a wedding dress for her first job.

  On Maggie’s last day at work, Jo did something entirely uncharacteristic. As they stood at the factory gates she suddenly flung her arms about Maggie and kissed her soundly on the cheek. ‘I shall miss yer,’ she said. Maggie looked at her in surprise. ‘Well, I don’t see why you should. You can still come and see me, can’t you? In fact, I shall expect you to - even more now that we won’t be working together in the day.’

  Jo grinned. ‘I’ll hold yer to that.’

  ‘Good. I’ll expect you one night next week, then. An’ don’t forget or I shall come lookin’ for yer.’

  ‘Tarrah then. See yer next week.’ With a spring in her step, Jo set off in the opposite direction.

  Maggie arrived home in a happy mood but she had barely had time to set foot through the door when it dispersed.

  ‘That came fer yer this mornin’.’ Her mother nodded towards an official-looking brown paper envelope that was propped up on the mantelpiece.

  Tentatively, Maggie lifted it down and turned it over in her hand.

  ‘Well, open it
then. It can’t bite,’ her mother snapped. ‘It might be somethin’ to do with Sam.’

  Turning her back on the twins who were staring at her with wide frightened eyes, Maggie slit it open and extracted the letter it contained. As her eyes flew down the carefully typed page, the colour drained from her face and she leaned heavily against the mantelpiece.

  ‘Well, come on then - spit it out. Is it owt to do with Sam?’ her mother demanded.

  Taking her by the elbow, Maggie steered her into the front room away from the little ears in the kitchen.

  ‘They’ve found him,’ she told her mother.

  Ellen whistled softly through her teeth. ‘So where were he, then?’

  Maggie gulped before answering. ‘It appears that he was at his mother’s. She’d been hiding him.’

  Her mother’s response had Maggie’s eyes stretching wide with shock.

  ‘It don’t surprise me.’

  ‘But, Mam, she knew that he was on the run,’ Maggie gasped.

  Ellen laughed softly. ‘She’s his mam, love. For all she declared he were a bad ’un from time to time, blood is thicker than water an’ yer defend yer own. Even if yer feel at times that what they’re doin’ ain’t right. I for one won’t condemn her. If truth be told, I’d probably have done the same if it had been you. What they doin’ with him now, anyway?’

  Maggie looked back at the letter. ‘It seems they’ve taken him off to the camp. He’ll be punished, then he’ll do his training and they’ll ship him out just the same.’

  ‘It just might make a man of him,’ Ellen told her philosophically. ‘At least yer know where he is now, so you’d best put it from yer mind an’ get on with things here.’

  Maggie nodded slowly as she crumpled the letter in her hand. Her mother was right. Sam had committed the crime and now he must endure the punishment. After all his efforts to evade going to war, he’d still ended up being where he least wanted to be. And there wasn’t a thing in the world that she could do about it. A little voice in her head whispered, ‘Would you really want to?’ Not wishing to answer it she hurried away to see to the children’s tea.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘There you are then, Mam. That should see you through till I get in from school.’

  As Maggie looked across at Danny, who was just placing a full coal-scuttle on the hearth, her heart swelled with pride. Since his father had left, Danny had done his best to take on the role of the man of the house. He never tired of helping out or running errands, for which she was more grateful than she could say. Her small dressmaking business was doing well, and sometimes she was having to stay up until the early hours of the morning to keep up with her work. Not that she was complaining, for although she was ashamed to admit it, the house seemed lighter somehow without Sam, and the children seemed happier too.

  Hurrying over to the twins, who were standing by the door, she handed them each their satchels before kissing them both affectionately.

  ‘Put your scarves on,’ she instructed them. ‘It’s enough to cut you in two out there and I don’t want you both coming down with colds.’

  Lizzie obediently did as she was told but Danny wrinkled up his nose.

  ‘Do I have to, Mam? I feel a right cissy in that.’

  Maggie stifled a giggle. The scarves that her mother had knitted them were a little gaudy, to say the least. Ellen had used up all her odd scraps of wool and the scarves reminded Maggie of Joseph’s coat of many colours. Not that Lizzie minded. In fact, she was quite taken with hers.

  ‘Well, all right then. But turn your coat collar up instead, else you’ll be getting a sore throat,’ Maggie relented.

  Once she had seen the twins off, she turned her attention to Lucy, who was still in her nightdress. ‘Come on, sweetheart,’ she crooned as she lifted the toddler into her arms. ‘Let’s get you dressed, eh? Then we’ll pop across the road and check on Grandma before we get started on the housework.’

  In no time at all, Maggie and Lucy were sitting in the warmth of Ellen’s immaculate little kitchen. Maggie kept the child close at her side, for she had a habit of being able to create chaos in no time, and her mother’s obsession with having everything just so had not abated.

  ‘Mrs Massey was saying that she was going up the club tonight to have a game of housey-housey,’ Maggie remarked innocently. ‘Why don’t you get yourself ready and go with her? It would do you the world of good to get out of the house for a while.’

  ‘I’m quite happy in me own four walls,’ her mother replied stubbornly as she flicked at an imaginary speck of dust on the gleaming sideboard that stood along one wall.

  Maggie sighed. She had been trying to encourage her mother to go out for weeks, but as yet she’d had no success at all. ‘Then what say you an’ me go to the pictures later in the week? I could do with a night out meself, if I were to be honest.’

  ‘Oh yes? An’ what would yer do with the children while we were off gallivanting?’

  ‘That needn’t be a problem. Jo would be more than happy to babysit,’ Maggie pointed out.

  From the look that flitted across Ellen’s face, Maggie might have suggested that she walk into a den of lions. But then she pursed her lips and firmly shook her head. ‘I ain’t daft, me girl. I happen to know you’re snowed under with work at the moment. You’re just tryin’ to get me out an’ about.’

  ‘Would that be such a bad thing?’ Maggie asked softly. ‘Apart from crossing the road to us, you’ve barely set foot out of the house since Dad . . .’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s as maybe. But I’ll go out in me own good time and not before, so let’s leave it at that, eh?’

  ‘I just want you to be happy again, Mam.’ Maggie’s voice was loaded with sadness. ‘We can’t bring Dad back and it would break his heart if he could see you locking yourself away like this.’

  Her mother quickly turned away and began to busy herself with a pile of laundry. She longed to tell her daughter that the pain increased with every day that passed without Bill, but she knew that Maggie missed him too and didn’t want to add to her hurt. Each night when she went to bed she prayed that she might die in her sleep so that they could be together again. But of course, she couldn’t tell Maggie that either, so instead she said briskly, ‘Haven’t you got anything to do across the way then?’

  Taking the hint, Maggie took Lucy’s hand and walked towards the door. She knew of old that there would be no reasoning with her mother while she was in this mood and she did have a lot of sewing to do.

  ‘I’ll perhaps see you later then?’

  Ellen’s face softened as she nodded. ‘Yes, perhaps you will. I’ll maybe pop over to see how that wedding dress you’re making is shaping up.’

  Once outside in the cold September air, Maggie took a deep breath. It always upset her to see her father’s chair so empty and she felt useless, for there was nothing that she could say or do to ease her mother’s pain.

  Quickly glancing up and down the road she hauled Lucy onto her hip and hurried across through the chilly mist that had as yet not lifted. When she reached the other side of the lane she found Mrs Massey talking to the milkman.

  Lucy wriggled in her arms to be allowed down. Placing her gently on the pavement, Maggie watched her make a beeline for Dobbin, the old horse who pulled the milkcart.

  ‘So how’s yer mam doin’ now then, love?’ Mr Brown, the milkman, enquired kindly.

  ‘Not so good,’ Maggie admitted fretfully. ‘She misses my dad something terrible.’

  ‘Well, that’s only to be expected,’ he answered. ‘They were like Derby and Joan, those pair - never very far away from each other. It’s a crying shame from where I’m standing. But then, they reckon that the good allus go first.’ As he spoke he leaned down to deposit a pint of milk onto Mrs Massey’s clean doorstep, ignoring her frown of annoyance.

  ‘Right then, I’d best get on wi’ me round. This standin’ about won’t buy the baby a new bonnet, will it? Them as are waitin’ fer their milk fe
r a cup o’ tea will be cussin’ me sommat rotten.’ With a cheerful wink he set off with his crate down the row of terraced houses, whistling merrily.

  Maggie smiled at Mrs Massey, then taking Lucy’s tiny hand, she hauled her inside and soon she was busy at her old Singer sewing-machine again with the little girl playing at her feet.

  Jo arrived that night to find Lizzie and Danny carefully cutting old newspapers into neat little squares that would then be threaded with string before being hung in the outside privy to be used as toilet paper. They immediately abandoned their task and ran to meet her. She was a regular visitor now, and much to Maggie’s surprise, was wonderful with the children.

  ‘How’s about I read yer all a nice story then before you go to bed, eh?’ Jo suggested as she threw her coat across the back of a chair.

  Lizzie and Danny nodded eagerly, and soon they were engrossed in an Enid Blyton story. This was followed by hot cocoa and biscuits, which Danny devoured as if he hadn’t eaten for a week.

  ‘I really don’t know where that child puts it. I’m sure he must have hollow legs,’ Maggie grinned.

  ‘Ain’t nothin’ much wrong wi’ a child when they have a good appetite,’ Jo replied. ‘He’s a growin’ lad. Me brother is much the same. The greedy little bugger would eat us out of house an’ home if I’d let him. But anyway - if you’ve finished, kids, I’ll come an’ tuck you up in bed. I might get to have a few minutes wi’ yer mam then.’

  Almost an hour later, when Jo and Maggie were comfortably settled at the side of the fire, a tap came to the back door.

  ‘I wonder who that could be at this time of night?’ Maggie remarked. It was almost nine o’clock and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Hurrying to the door, she quickly drew back the black-out curtain and opened it to find her mother-in-law standing shamefaced on the doorstep. It was the first time she’d seen her since the night Sam left home, but she held the door wide, making the flames on the fire sputter and lick up the chimney.