Meet Me Under the Clock

by Annie Murray

  ‘Thanks,’ Elsie said, with the irritation of someone who has spent much of her life failing to gain weight. ‘Ey-up,’ she added, as a young lad dashed past them as if looking for someone. ‘He’s a new one in the offices. Poor little bugger – I s’pect they’ve sent him out to fetch the Fog Book.’

  Sylvia laughed. This was one of the favoured initiation rites for young clerks at the Goods Yard. Some fool’s errand would be found to get them running anxiously around, only to end up with a very red face.

  ‘They sent one out to fetch a bag of sparks for the fireworks a few months back!’ she laughed. She called to him. ‘Eh!’ The boy jumped. ‘Yes, you! What’ve they sent you out for?’

  The lad, pale, weedy and nervous-looking, swerved in her direction. ‘I’ve been told to fetch a porter called Sylvia White . . . White-something. D’you know which one she is?’

  ‘I do,’ Sylvia said solemnly. Elsie was grinning beside her. The lad was so earnest. ‘That’d be me.’

  ‘There’s a bloke at the gate asking after you,’ he gabbled, as if delivering the message would be a weight off his mind. ‘Says you’re expecting him.’

  ‘Oh!’ Sylvia gasped, her heart hammering with sudden excitement. ‘Oh, ta very much.’ Without stopping to explain to Elsie, she upended her empty trolley and tore across the yard. The air was full of whirling snowflakes. Could it be – could it really? He’d said he’d be coming soon. Like Audrey, apparently, he couldn’t be here for Christmas . . . But now, could it really be . . . ?

  Through the whiteness she saw Laurie standing just inside the gate, keeping out of the way of the weighbridge. He had his hands in his pockets, a black scarf wrapped over his chin, but no hat and his hair was coated in snowflakes. He looked cold and a bit uncertain. When he caught sight of her hurrying across the busy yard, he leapt into life. Looking round to check that no vehicles were heading for him, he ran to meet her. Without thinking, they flung their arms round each other, at which a ragged round of cheers and applause rose from the carters and porters around the yard.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here!’ she cried, kissing his cold cheek. Everything was suddenly lit up with joy. He was here – really here! ‘Oh, look at your hair!’ She started gently knocking the snow off him.

  Laurie grinned. ‘I only got in a couple of hours ago, but I had to come and find you – and see this place.

  He was about to kiss her when both of them became aware of the commotion they were causing. Sylvia stepped back, blushing, as one of the men trying to drive a truck past shouted, ‘Don’t mind us, bab – we’ve got all day. There ain’t no war going on or anything.’

  ‘Sorry!’ she called, blushing again, but saw that he was grinning.

  ‘My goodness, this is a place, isn’t it?’ Laurie said, looking round. He seemed fascinated. ‘I’ve never been in one of these yards before. Mighty busy, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m nearly finished,’ she said, feeling very proud and active in her work clothes. ‘I’ve got one more load, then I can stow my trolley and get my things. Come over here and I’ll show you round.’

  Once they’d finished, she showed him the yard and round the shed. It was full of trains loading and unloading, porters hurrying back and forth, tarpaulins being fixed on, loads being checked. They walked along to look out over the shunting yard and the roundhouse.

  ‘The cut’s just behind there,’ she said. ‘And there’s the coal store – and look, they’re just bringing this one in.’

  A line of wagons was clanking to a halt in the shed, the engine letting out a long swoosh of steam outside. Sylvia could see that Laurie was loving seeing it all.

  ‘I wonder what’s in there?’ he said.

  ‘Could be all sorts of things,’ Sylvia laughed. ‘We get just about everything through here. Even a goat or two!’

  ‘This looks really hard work. You’re amazing, Sylv!’ He looked at her with happy admiration and put his arm round her back for a moment.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you think so,’ she joked. But she was delighted. Laurie was genuinely appreciative of her, and it was such a change after Ian.

  Laurie came and met her off her shift the next day too. Gina and Elsie soon caught on to the fact that an admirer was coming to meet her. She received plenty of teasing.

  ‘It’s certainly better seeing you looking a bit more cheerful,’ Gina told her, as they chatted during one of their breaks. ‘Instead of like someone who’s just been to a funeral.’

  ‘Thanks, Gina,’ Sylvia said. ‘I’ll try to look overjoyed at all times.’

  ‘By the look of that feller of yours, you won’t have to try too hard. He’s mad about you – it’s written all over him.’

  ‘You want to hold on to that one,’ Elsie said.

  ‘He’s a good ’un all right,’ Sylvia said, grinning.

  During the few snatched hours she and Laurie managed to spend together on his leave, it didn’t take Sylvia long to realize that she was more in love than she had ever been in her life before. As well as Laurie’s kindness and respect towards her, there was a comfort in being with him that went very deep. They knew each other’s lives and families so well that there was no having to prove anything, or struggle to measure up, as she had felt she had to do with Ian. Being with Laurie was so much better – so right! They could reminisce together and share old jokes as well as new ones.

  Laurie only had two days of leave. Without saying anything to each other, they both decided they would not talk or think about the war. Now that the Americans were in the war after the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor, there was more of a sense of energy and optimism. But it did not take away the fact that Laurie was now in Bomber Command. None of it was over, but for the moment they wanted to be a young couple who could think about the future and dream dreams, as if there was no war to ruin them.

  They went on snowy walks on both days, in the remaining afternoon light after Sylvia finished work. Arm-in-arm they wandered into the wonderland of the parks. The branches were two-tone, with their top layer of snow and the grass a white swathe several inches deep, crossed here and there with lines of footprints. The second day they took Paul as well and he ran up and down shrieking like a small child and demanded a snowball fight, which they gave him, keeping it gentle and good-natured. Paul got bored with that and whirled off, skipping across the snow so that they had to run to keep up. When they all arrived back at the Goulds’, pink-faced, laughing and half-saturated, Marjorie sat them down and fed them tea and bread and jam and looked happier than Sylvia could remember in months. Mr Gould seemed chirpier too. Both the Goulds were delighted that Laurie and Sylvia were in love.

  ‘Thanks for taking Paul with you,’ Marjorie said, watching the boy gobble down his tea. ‘I just can’t keep up with him these days. I hope he was good?’

  ‘Course he was,’ Sylvia said. ‘You were ever such a good boy, weren’t you, Pauly? And he had a lovely run around.’

  Everyone wanted to see Laurie, so the times he and Sylvia had alone were very precious. That first night they stayed up late in his house, sitting on the rug by the dwindling fire. They did not switch on the wireless. Their hours together were already slipping away far too fast.

  ‘Come here,’ Laurie said, holding out his arms. Sylvia went to him and sat between his outstretched legs. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to let go of you, ever.’

  She laughed, loving the feel of his arms round her and him nuzzling the side of her face with his cheek. They were already so at ease together, in just a few days, knowing they loved each other, and it was as if neither of them could contemplate anything other than spending all their lives together. It felt like a strange, wonderful miracle.

  ‘What shall we do after the war’s over?’ she said.

  Laurie was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t want to go back where I was before. Not to that office. I want to be somewhere there’s no one ordering you about all the time. In the country – maybe I’ll be a farmer.’
<
br />   ‘A farmer! You don’t know the first thing about farming.’

  ‘I could learn,’ he said. ‘I’ve learned to navigate a plane – you can learn pretty much anything, if you put your mind to it.’

  Sylvia was impressed by this new confidence in him.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to live in the country?’ he asked. ‘Somewhere pretty, with flowers and fields . . .’

  ‘Yes,’ she said dreamily. Then she turned to look at him. ‘I don’t mind where I live really, so long as it’s with you. You’re what I want – that’s all.’

  He looked seriously into her eyes and for a second she saw a flicker of fear, as if a thought had come to him, but he banished it.

  ‘Of course I’ll be there with you. There’s nowhere else I want to be, Sylv. So long as . . .’ He stopped. ‘Best not think too far ahead, eh? Not now. But God, I love you, Sylvia, like nothing and no one else. You’re my mainstay.’ He hugged her even closer to him. ‘Just stay here and carry on being just as you are, and I’ll always be thinking of you.’ He kissed her passionately and she lay in his arms, warm and happy. His voice suddenly very serious, he said, ‘I don’t want you to think . . . When we’re together, like this, I’d like things to go further – God, I would! If things were normal – I mean, I wouldn’t think of us going further until we were married. But now, when you never know . . .’ He sounded embarrassed, but he needed to say it. ‘I just don’t want to cause any trouble for you – push things too fast. After all, we’ve only just found each other.’

  Sylvia twisted round and placed a finger across his lips. She was moved by his trying to talk about it. Much as she desired him, she was not ready yet, not quite. ‘Sssh. I know. It’s all right. Everything’s perfect, like this, my love.’

  His body shook gently with laughter and he kissed the top of her head. ‘You’re wonderful.’ After a few moments he said, ‘Has Audrey found anyone? What’s she up to – apart from balloons and all that?’

  ‘She did mention someone called Nick,’ Sylvia said. ‘But that was when she was still training, so I don’t know if they see all that much of each other, now she’s down south – somewhere on the edge of London. She doesn’t get round to getting in touch much, and we haven’t seen her in ages. But no doubt she’s going along just fine and dandy, bossing everyone else about!’

  Laurie laughed. ‘No doubt. She’ll find some big strong RAF officer, I expect, and have a whole clutch of kids.’

  ‘Audrey?’ Sylvia said astonished. ‘Oh, I don’t think so! She’s always been very determined that’s not what she wants. Doesn’t want to be tied down and all that.’

  ‘Oh,’ Laurie said. ‘Well, we’ll see. Most people don’t know what they want until it arrives.’

  She looked up at him. ‘No. But now you’ve arrived. Aren’t I a lucky girl?’

  She was not able to see Laurie off when he left, because it was during her working hours. They had to say goodbye very early in the morning, Laurie getting up to see her before she went to work. They stood in the Goulds’ hall, locked in each other’s arms. Sylvia couldn’t help crying at having to part from him.

  ‘It seems such an age until you can come again,’ she said, clinging to him. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything dangerous.’ She knew this was absurd even as she said it, but she did not want to think about the danger he might be in.

  ‘At least it’s not Canada now,’ he said.

  ‘Lincolnshire feels like the ends of the earth to me,’ she said despondently.

  ‘It’ll soon go by,’ he said. ‘And write to me, won’t you? Your letters are the best.’

  ‘My letters are terrible,’ she sniffed, looking up at him with a half-smile now.

  ‘They’re not – you’re much better at it than you think.’ But he held her close and she could hear that he was upset too. They just needed to be together, that was what they had discovered. They were part of each other: it was as simple as that.

  As she walked away from the house in the snowy darkness to catch the bus, she took his warm embrace with her and their loving words. ‘Always remember, I love you and love you,’ Laurie had told her. ‘That’s all that matters, ever.’

  It was desolate coming home that day, and the days afterwards, knowing it would be weeks before she saw him again. Getting back to Kings Heath, and knowing that their houses were empty of Laurie, felt so sad. She knew Mrs Gould must also be feeling it terribly. Even Ted commented on it.

  ‘Seems very quiet, now the lad’s gone,’ he said, settling down with the paper that evening.

  ‘He’ll be back,’ Pauline said, trying to jolly everyone along, as she had doubtless had to do with Marjorie Gould as well. It struck Sylvia then just how strong her mother was. She held fast, always quietly trying to support other people.

  Sylvia told herself she had to settle back into a routine. If she kept busy, the days would pass and, however much she missed him, she had the pleasure of Laurie’s letters to look forward to.

  It didn’t stay quiet for long, though. The second night after Laurie left, there was a tap at the front door, just as they were about to get the tea ready.

  ‘Who on earth can that be?’ her mother said uneasily.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Sylvia said.

  She went along the dark hall, not bothering to put the light on, and pulled the door open. It took a few seconds to make sense of the shape on the step, standing half-turned away as if looking out along the street.

  ‘Audrey?’

  Sylvia saw her sister turn and stare at her stonily for a second. Then her pale face contorted and she burst into tears, her shoulders heaving as if her distress had been long held back. Sylvia noticed the suitcase then, lodged beside her on the step.

  ‘They’ve thrown me out!’ she sobbed. ‘The WAAF – I’ve been dismissed. I had to come home – I’ve nowhere else to go.’

  Forty

  They stood round, shocked and bewildered. Audrey sat at the kitchen table, with Sylvia and Pauline standing on either side of her and Jack lingering in the doorway. It was so rare ever to see Audrey cry that this in itself was extraordinary. Her hair was loose and she was wearing her own clothes – no more WAAF uniform now. She suddenly seemed smaller.

  Steam poured from the kettle on the stove. All thoughts of getting a meal ready were forgotten.

  Sylvia was about to comfort her sister, but Pauline moved first, leaning on the table with both hands. ‘You’d better tell us what’s happened, Aud.’ Her tone was controlled, but Sylvia could hear the anxiety in it.

  Audrey hung her head. ‘I’ve been kicked out.’

  Pauline’s face was very grave. ‘What’ve you done? You must’ve done summat bad to’ve been . . .’ Her voice hardened and her body seemed to become tougher and more forbidding, as if she was reverting back to ways of behaving and speaking from an earlier time in her life, which normally she tried to forget. ‘Out with it, wench – what’ve you done?’

  Audrey flinched as if Mom had hit her. She raised her head and said, ‘Tell Jack to go out.’

  Mom gave Jack a look and he didn’t argue. They heard the door click shut and his tread on the stairs.

  ‘Well?’ Mom demanded. Sylvia felt as upset by the change coming over their mother as by Audrey’s distress. Her stomach tightened with dread. What on earth could Audrey have done to merit such harsh punishment?

  ‘I’m four months gone.’

  Gone, Sylvia thought. She can’t have left the WAAF four months ago – where has she been all this time? But the sharp inward suck of her mother’s breath and the cuff she administered across the side of Audrey’s head tilted her mind into what was happening. Gone. Four months gone.

  ‘You stupid, dirty . . .’ Mom couldn’t seem to think of the right words to convey her fury. ‘You . . . Oh!’

  She sank down on a chair by the table, staring ahead of her. She swallowed, then banged her fist on the table. Sylvia expected Audrey to fight back, as she always would have done, but not this time. She sat
hanging her head.

  ‘You silly, stupid girl!’ was all Mom could think of to say, but she said it with intense feeling. There was a long, awful silence. Audrey stayed hidden under her hair. ‘Sylv,’ Pauline said eventually, in a low, controlled voice. ‘Make that tea.’

  The kettle was still boiling away, unheeded.

  As she obeyed, her hands trembling, Sylvia heard Mom say menacingly, ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘I’ve felt it moving.’

  ‘Dear God, what in heaven’s name is your father going to—? How could you? Have you got any idea—?’ Chopped sentences dropped from Mom’s lips. She was red in the face now and working herself up. ‘I’ve got to get out of here, or I’ll do something I regret,’ she said, pushing her chair back. She stopped at the door. ‘You stupid little bitch!’ she hissed. ‘Of all things, I never thought you . . .’ She hurried out of the kitchen and they heard her feet banging on the stairs. A door slammed.

  Sylvia was left alone with her weeping stranger of a sister and a full pot of tea. She did the only thing she could think of: poured out two cups, put in far more sugar than the ration allowed and sat down beside Audrey. She was reeling with shock and confusion. A baby? Was that what Audrey was saying? How could she have let this happen? She had never seen her mother so hard and cruel. But she had never seen her sister so low and upset, either. At last she dared to put her arm round Audrey’s shoulders and felt her begin to tremble.

  ‘I knew you’d be kind,’ Audrey said, her voice cracking. ‘You’re always the one who’s kind.’ She rested her forehead on the table and broke down again, into distraught weeping. ‘Oh God, sis – it’s been so awful, I can’t tell you . . .’

  ‘Oh, Aud,’ Sylvia said, feeling her own tears welling up. ‘What on earth are we going to do?’

  ‘I tell you what I’m going to do,’ Audrey said, sitting bolt upright. ‘I’m going to get this thing inside me taken away and adopted, and then I’m going back to the WAAF. That’s what I’m going to do!’