‘You’re telling me that Lucy is dead?’ he said hoarsely. An unspoken message that neither Beryl nor Jo could understand seemed to pass between them, and a silence settled on the room as he tried to digest the tragic news.
‘Sam is dead too,’ she finished lamely, but even as she said it a shutter seemed to come down over his eyes, though he said not a word.
‘Oh.’ David gazed back at her pain-filled eyes and in that moment he knew that he would have to take the secret of what had happened between Sam and himself to his grave.
Turning his head, he stared into the back of the fire as pictures of Lucy flashed in front of his eyes. Through the long, long hours spent on the battlefield he had imagined coming home to her; had imagined her squealing with delight when she delved into his pocket, or when he tossed her high into the air. Now he would never see her again, never hold her or smell the sweet baby scent of her.
‘I’m so sorry, Maggie.’ The words sounded so inadequate but he knew that there was nothing he could say that would ease her loss. Ever since the dreadful day when he had woken in the hospital tent to discover that they had amputated his arm, he had been racked with pain, but it was as nothing to the pain he was feeling now.
‘That’s enough o’ that fer now then,’ Beryl stated firmly. ‘This is a day fer rejoicin’, not sorrow. There have been times when I thought we’d never see you again - but here you are so we should give thanks fer that, if nothing else. Now, Maggie an’ Jo, you get the table laid. You’ll all have a dish o’ this stew if I have to tip it down yer throats. That beef cost me two weeks o’ coupons so I don’t want it going to waste.’
The meal was nothing at all like the joyful occasion Beryl had imagined it to be, but then, as she was slowly realising, David was nothing like the man he had been when he left to go to war. And it was nothing at all to do with his missing limb. There was a stoop to his shoulders now and lines on his face that hadn’t been there before - a look of unspeakable sorrow in his eyes, as if he had seen things that no human being should ever see.
But then, she tried to console herself, should she really expect anything else? The war had changed all of them, but it was even worse for the men like David who had seen it first-hand. Could she really expect him to come back and go on as if nothing had ever happened, after the atrocities he must have witnessed?
She determined to go gently with him. It was going to be a long slow job to restore him to the man he had once been, but she would do it; she had to, for he was all she had left now.
That night, Maggie tossed and turned as sleep evaded her. Jo had been softly snoring for hours in the single brass bed only feet away from hers. She was aware that, just across the landing, David was spending his first night for months on a soft mattress, and hoped that he was sleeping peacefully. After pummelling the pillow she tried another position, as she willed herself to sleep, but it was useless so eventually she crept out of bed and down to the kitchen. Perhaps a nice hot drink would help her to sleep?
Crossing to the sink, she filled the kettle, lit the gas ring and set it on the stove to boil. As she turned to get the teapot she became aware of someone sitting in the shadows at the side of the fire, and her heart leapt into her throat.
‘Couldn’t you sleep either, Maggie?’
Recognising David’s voice, she sighed with relief before answering, ‘No. I thought a cup of tea might help. Would you like one?’
He nodded and watched silently as she pottered about getting the mugs ready and spooning the tea leaves into the pot.
Once it was poured she placed his mug in his good hand and took a seat opposite. He stared at her in the flickering firelight, thinking how beautiful she looked before saying, ‘We need to talk, don’t we?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. This was the moment she had been dreading, but now that it had come it would be almost a relief to get it over with.
‘I think you know what I’m going to ask you, don’t you?’
She nodded, as tears pricked at her eyes.
‘Maggie, I can ask it now that Sam is dead. I have nothing to gain by knowing the answer but I’d still appreciate the truth . . . Was Lucy my child?’
Gazing down into her mug, Maggie’s mind flashed back across the years to the one and only time in her married life when she and David had allowed their feelings for each other to get the better of them. She’d had a particularly awful row with Sam that night before he had slammed off out to the pub, and so it had seemed natural to pour her feelings out to David when he visited later that evening.
The twins had been in bed and she was sitting there feeling more than a little sorry for herself when David had appeared. He had listened to her and sympathised, and for the first time since Sam had tricked her into sleeping with him, she’d felt warm inside and loved. She had always loved David, and Sam had always known it, but until that night she had never been unfaithful to her husband and had always tried to be a good wife. That night, however, she and David had both succumbed to their desire, and there, in front of the fire, he had loved her with a tenderness that she had never known with Sam. After it was over they had both been full of remorse and swore to each other that it would never happen again. It never had, but the following month, when Maggie discovered that she was pregnant, she knew that she would always have a part of David in the child he could never claim as his own.
Now, as she looked across at him with pain bright in her eyes, he had his answer, and he buried his face in his hand and wept - for hadn’t he always known deep down that Lucy was the product of their love? The little girl had lived and died never knowing how much he had loved her, and now she never would. The realisation was tearing him apart as Maggie put her arms around him and held him close.
‘I’m so sorry, David,’ she whispered brokenly into his ear as his body shook with sobs, but he couldn’t answer. Once again, life had dealt him a bitter blow.
The very next morning, a letter from Danny, poked though the letter box by Mr Massey on his way to work, plopped onto the doormat and Maggie swooped on it with a cry of delight. However, her joy was shortlived as her eyes scanned the page, and her brow creased in a frown.
‘What’s up now?’ Beryl asked fearfully as she cut up David’s sausages for him.
‘Danny says that Lizzie isn’t very happy,’ Maggie informed her. ‘Mr Evans, who she was staying with, has passed away and Danny reckons that ever since then, Mrs Evans has gone a bit funny in the head.’
‘What do yer mean, funny?’
Maggie’s shoulders trembled. ‘He says that the woman won’t let her out of her sight an’ that she keeps calling her Megan.’
‘An’ just who the hell is Megan?’ Beryl asked, bewildered.
‘According to Danny, it was her little girl who died.’ Real concern laced Maggie’s voice now as a shiver ran up her spine. ‘He says she’s cut Lizzie’s hair and makes her sleep in the same bed with her.’
‘I don’t like the sound o’ that,’ Jo piped up as she buttered some toast for David.
‘Neither do I.’ Maggie chewed on her lip as she reread the letter. It sounded no better at all for a second reading. ‘What do you think I should do?’
‘Well, from where I’m standing it don’t sound too healthy,’ Beryl stated. ‘Now I come to think about it, a few things don’t seem quite right. For a start-off, this might explain why Lizzie never got any of your letters. Perhaps this Mrs Evans never passed them on to her? Danny got his, didn’t he, and if it were the post, his would have gone astray too, surely?’
A cold hand squeezed Maggie’s heart as she considered the possibility. It was David who finally said, ‘Do you think you should go and see her?’
‘O’ course she should. The poor little mites don’t know about what’s happened here yet. As far as they know, they still have a dad, a sister an’ a gran waitin’ at home fer ’em, plus they’ve no idea that that home has been flattened, an’ all. I know you’ve been puttin’ off tellin’’em fer all the right r
easons, Maggie, but surely now you need to go - if only to put yer mind at rest. The way children get things muddled up, you’ll probably find Lizzie happy as Larry, but will yer be able to rest now until yer know fer sure?’
Maggie had been dreading having to tell the twins of all that had happened at home, but now she couldn’t put it off any longer.
‘I can let you have the train fare,’ David offered, although he hated the thought of her leaving so soon after his return.
She smiled at him gratefully. ‘That’s really kind of you, but I’ve managed to save a little. Your mam has been letting me use her sewing-machine and so I’ve been able to get a bit of work done. But how will you all manage here if I go?’
‘No trouble,’ Jo assured her. ‘I can help Beryl and David with anythin’ that needs doin’. That is, if yer don’t need me to come with yer?’
‘No, you stay here,’ Maggie told her. ‘It might be better if I’m on my own to break the news to the twins. Besides, I’ll feel easier knowing that you’re here to help out till I get back. Now that you’re only working part-time you should manage between you.’
Since the night of the Blitz, Jo had reduced her hours to afternoons only, for the constant sickness was beginning to wear her down. Also, her stomach was finally beginning to swell. Only the day before, she’d noticed Miss Hutchinson watching her curiously as she dressed the shop window. So far, she had managed to disguise the bump by wearing slightly larger skirts that Maggie had run up for her on the sewing-machine, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to hide her pregnancy.
As Maggie was speaking, she noticed the way David’s eyes were straying to the small lump that was just beginning to show on Jo’s stomach. Jo noticed at almost the same time and Maggie saw colour rush into her cheeks.
Feeling that she needed to explain, she said casually, ‘Did I mention that Jo was going to have a baby, David?’
The colour in Jo’s cheeks turned from a faint pink to beetroot red as Maggie went on, ‘Jo’s husband was killed in service, which was why she ended up staying with me.’ She hated having to lie to him, yet desperately wanted to save Jo’s feelings.
However, she needn’t have bothered, for Jo suddenly blurted out, ‘You don’t have to lie for me, Maggie.’
Shamefaced, Maggie hung her head as David stared at them both in bewilderment.
Holding her head high, Jo looked him straight in the face. ‘I never had a husband, or a friend for that matter - till Maggie took me under her wing, that is. I was a . . . a prostitute. I ain’t proud of the fact an’ I know you’ll probably despise me now that you know. But the way I see it, your mam was good enough to take me in, an’ there shouldn’t be lies between us.’
Both Maggie and Beryl stared at her in open-mouthed admiration, realising just how much courage it must have taken to come out with the truth. David meanwhile looked totally amazed as he stared back at her.
‘I ain’t askin’ fer sympathy if that’s what yer thinking,’ Jo told him coldly. ‘I’ve done the crime an’ now I have to take the punishment. I’m fully aware that no decent man will ever touch me with a bargepole, but I don’t care. I’ve got hands, an’ once the baby comes, I’ll work to keep us both. If I decide to keep it, that is, an’ I ain’t made me mind up about that yet. All I am sure of at the minute is that it ain’t the baby’s fault. He or she didn’t ask to be born so I’ll do what I think is best for it.’
‘Well, I have to admire you for that at least,’ David eventually told her, but Jo thought she detected a note of contempt in his voice. She didn’t really much care what he thought of her at the end of the day. Her loyalties lay with Maggie, and there was nothing she wouldn’t have done for her, which is why she couldn’t allow her to lie on her behalf.
Maggie felt a measure of relief now that everything was out in the open and looked at David appealingly. ‘Please don’t judge her too harshly,’ she said. ‘There were extenuating circumstances that made her do what she did. It wasn’t from choice, I assure you.’
Pushing himself from the chair with his one good arm, David shrugged. ‘It’s really nothing to do with me, is it? But thanks for being so truthful, Jo. I don’t suppose it was easy for you.’
Eager to change the subject, Beryl piped up, ‘Right, now that’s all out in the open, can we get back to what’s important? When were yer thinkin’ o’ goin’ to see those children o’ yours, Maggie?’
David bowed his head as he thought back to the conversation he’d had with Maggie in the small hours of the morning. He had been a father, yet had never known it for sure, until it was too late. The twins were still alive though, so it was important that Maggie saw them as soon as possible.
‘I think you ought to go tomorrow, for what my opinion’s worth,’ he stated as he headed for the stairs door. ‘And now if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going up for a lie-down.’
The second he’d disappeared up the stairs, Beryl shook her head wearily. ‘I don’t know. I’ve got me lad back, an’ yet he ain’t me lad, if yer know what I mean? He just seems so . . . bitter.’
Maggie nodded sadly. ‘The war has changed us all, Beryl. No doubt he’s seen things that no one should ever see. But give him time. He’ll come through it in the end. I do think he was right, though - about going to see the twins as soon as possible, I mean. I’ll go to the station this afternoon and book a ticket for next Monday.’
‘Good for you,’ Beryl told her approvingly. ‘But why wait until Monday? What’s wrong wi’ tomorrow, as David suggested? There ain’t no time like the present. At the minute, none of us knows what tomorrow might bring.’
Although the thought of just disappearing off was appealing, Maggie shook her head. ‘No, I’m going to write to them today to tell them when to expect me. I can post it on the way to the station. It doesn’t seem fair on the people who are caring for them to just turn up out of the blue, does it? At least this way they’ll know exactly when I’m coming. To be honest, I’m hoping someone will offer to put me up for the night. That way, I needn’t come straight back the same day and I’ll get to spend a bit more time with them. I can’t really afford to stay in a hotel.’
‘Well, there is that to it,’ Beryl admitted grudgingly. ‘You’ll find some paper and a pen in that drawer over there.’
Maggie smiled at her gratefully and was soon sitting at the table busily penning a letter to the twins telling them when they could expect her.
Upstairs, David lay on his bed with tears trickling down his face to soak into the pillow. Nothing seemed the same any more, not even Maggie. She had changed, but then it was hardly any wonder, with all she’d gone through since he had been away. He wondered how she would feel if she knew that Sam had caused him to lose his arm. He shuddered at the thought; he hadn’t accepted it himself, yet. Sam. The pain in his heart increased. How could his own brother have hated him so very much? He knew that he would have to bear the burden of what had happened between them on the battlefield on his own shoulders, for he could never tell Maggie: it would destroy her if ever she found out. His thoughts moved on to Lucy as he recalled her sweet, smiling little face. Through all the long lonely months that he had been away, the thought of coming home to her and Maggie had kept him going. Had kept him sane. He’d imagined the little girl’s face lighting up with innocent glee the way it had always done when she saw him. And Maggie, standing there with that special smile that she had always seemed to reserve just for him.
Instead he had come back to discover that he’d lost the only child he was ever likely to have, and to find Maggie a shadow of the vibrant young woman he remembered. But then, was it really any wonder? he asked himself. After all that had happened, he could hardly expect her to put the flags out for him. He wondered if they would ever have that special feeling between them again, for even after she had married Sam he had always known when he looked in her eye that she still loved him alone. Perhaps Sam had seen the look too? If he had, then David could understand why he had hate
d him so much. After all, Sam must have realised very early on in their marriage that although he had claimed Maggie as his wife he had not claimed her heart, nor ever could. It was ludicrous when he came to think about it. They were finally both free to do as they pleased now, and yet they had both changed.
‘Give me the strength to go on,’ he prayed, and lay there waiting for an answer. The only thing he heard was his mother singing along to Vera Lynn on the radio downstairs.
Later in the afternoon, Maggie wrapped up warmly and headed for the train station with a letter to the twins tucked deep in her pocket. She posted it in the first letter box that she came to, and then hurried on towards the station, where she purchased a one-way ticket to Pwllheli for the following Monday. She had barely ventured out of the house since moving in with Beryl, and was shocked to see that the city centre had been almost razed to the ground. The saddest sight of all was the once-beautiful Cathedral in ruins, all apart from its spire, which reached proudly up into the sky as if in defiance. The tram system was wrecked - the lines ripped from the ground or arched into the air in grotesque mangled shapes. Shops were flattened, including Maggie’s favourite store, Owen and Owen. A major sewage system had been destroyed, and the smell hung in the air, making her wrinkle her nose. Thousands of people were homeless, and yet the mood of the rescuers and troops who were still digging amongst the rubble was one of camaraderie.
Only the day before, when Mr Massey had paid them a visit at Beryl’s, he told them that, although twenty-seven factories had been hit, and 75 per cent of the city’s war output had been seriously damaged, production had already restarted. Maggie found it incredible. It was as if the people of Coventry were saying, ‘We’re down, but not defeated.’ She wished with all her heart that some of their fighting spirit could rub off on her, but as yet the pain of losing Lucy and her mother was still too raw.
Moonlight and Ashes Page 32