by Annie Murray
‘To be together.’
‘Well . . .’ She giggled. ‘Danny, I’m only fifteen. Give us a chance. We shouldn’t be doing this, for a start.’ Only now was she realizing exactly what they had done: that. The disgraceful ‘thing’ that was so forbidden, so shameful unless you were married. Panic rose in her at the thought. ‘What if anyone found out?’
‘Sod ’em,’ Danny said.
‘Danny!’ She raised her head, indignant now. ‘You can’t just say that! As if no one else exists.’
‘They don’t,’ he said obstinately. ‘Not for me. Just you.’
‘And Auntie.’ She was about to add, ‘And Jess and Amy.’ But she lay down again. She could hardly preach to him. His sisters had gone and left him, hadn’t they?
He rolled over and looked down at her, kissing her lips, then her breasts. ‘All I know is, this has been the best afternoon of my life and . . .’ He paused. ‘Yep – that’s all I know.’ He rested his head on her stomach and they lay quietly, until they grew so cold they had to get up.
All the way home she felt wrapped in the smell of him, the feel of him. She felt like a different person. She knew that she was promised to Danny Booker. And her mother did not even know he existed.
Eighteen
The first time it happened was a December morning, after what had felt like an endlessly long night raid. Even in the safe haven of the cellar it was impossible to sleep, lying there, listening to the thuds and bangs outside. As she set off for work, Rachel felt her nausea rise up and take over. She had to rush and gag over the gutter.
‘Been a bad night, ain’t it, bab?’ a woman said kindly as Rachel straightened up, groggy and embarrassed. ‘We’re all a bit churned up after that.’
It was the day the King came to Birmingham, to have a wander about and inspect the damage. Rachel had been awake almost all night – she thought her sickness was just because she was exhausted.
The next day, she was standing on the Coventry Road waiting for the trolleybus. There was a cold wind blowing which seemed to bring the promise of snow. Her stomach already felt nasty and acidic. As she stood there a man walked past, smoking. The drifting tang of the smoke caught in her nostrils and she felt suddenly very sick and had to breathe and swallow hard to try and stop it. At home, the smells of stew and cabbage in the passage had the same effect.
I must be coming down with something, she thought. Either that or it’s all these nights up and down. It did not even occur to her what was really going on.
On Saturdays she still went with Gladys to the Rag Market. There were just the two of them again. Jess and Amy, on seeing Albert and Nancy’s place in Sutton Coldfield, had immediately chosen to stay there. Rachel could see that Gladys was relieved, even though feeling that she had failed them. ‘They’re better off with Nancy,’ she said. ‘She’s a kind soul and I could see they felt a bit better as soon as they got there. Amy looked as if she was thawing out like a block of ice when she saw the garden and all the trees.’
Even with the war on and the nights of bombing sapping everyone’s energy, all the people in the Rag Market tried to create a good atmosphere in the build-up to Christmas. As the afternoon darkened outside, the lights came on and the barrows and racks and anything else that could have tinsel or holly twined round it was decorated.
That day was very cold, steam pluming from the horses’ nostrils outside and all the traders stamping their feet and wearing all possible layers of coats, scarves and shawls. Rachel had on her grey coat and a navy felt beret she had bought from the market a few weeks before. Gladys had her shawl wrapped over her coat and a colourful scarf over her head, tied under her chin. A lady had come to inspect some of the bed linen that Gladys had for sale. She had insisted on opening out all the sheets and pillowcases ‘to see they’re not full of holes’.
‘Well, that one was an old tartar,’ Gladys remarked, riled. ‘Thinking I’d try and palm off any old tat on ’er! Those sheets’re brand new! She never even bought anything after all that. Fold ’em up tidy again, Rach, will you?’
Rachel started to sort out the tangle of bed linen. But the frowsty smell of clothing in the market which normally she hardly noticed, the smoke from cigarettes and fumes from passing traffic, all seemed suddenly unbearable. As she stood up from picking up one of the sheets, she was suddenly overcome with heat. She was fighting to take off her wool scarf when she saw dots of light at the edge of her vision.
‘Ooh, I do feel queer,’ she was saying as the lights flashed more intensely, before everything went black.
‘Rach?’ Gladys’s voice echoed in from somewhere. ‘Rach – are you OK?’
The next thing Rachel knew, Gladys was on one side of her and another of the market traders on the other, and she was being picked up from the floor. Someone brought a box. Feeling exceedingly groggy, Rachel managed to sit on it.
‘Ooh, she looks poorly,’ their neighbour said. ‘I’ll go and get her a cup of tea.’
Other people were gathering round. ‘Is she all right? What’s up, wench?’
Gladys squatted beside her. ‘Keep your head down ’til you feel better,’ she instructed. After a few moments, with the blood thumping back into her head, Rachel sat up, feeling sick and peculiar, but conscious. Her right elbow hurt and she realized she must have banged it as she fell.
‘You fainted,’ Gladys said. Rachel saw a troubled look in Gladys’s grey eyes. ‘You should’ve said if you was feeling poorly.’
‘I wasn’t,’ Rachel said. ‘It just came on, suddenly like. I have been feeling a bit funny, on and off.’
The woman came back through the crowd and handed her a cup of tea. ‘Here y’are, bab – get that down you if you can.’
‘Ta,’ Rachel said. Her hands were shaking a little. She sat sipping the tea and everyone else drifted away. After a time the sweet tea restored her and she went back to work.
‘I want a word with you, miss.’
A week later, on the Sunday afternoon, Rachel had gone over to Aston. Just for once, she wished that Danny could make the journey over to her and she could stay lying on her bed. She felt tired to her bones and the queasiness came and went. What on earth’s the matter with me? she thought. I’m turning into an old lady. Looking in the mirror she saw how pale her cheeks were, and the dark circles under her eyes.
But she longed to see Danny! She got up and dragged herself over there, half-dozing on the tram out of town, praying she would not be sick. She’d not long arrived when Gladys started on her.
‘What d’you mean?’ she said, through a yawn. All she wanted was to sink into a heap by the fire.
‘Come with me.’ Gladys wiped her hands on a rag and led Rachel out into the cold yard again.
‘Auntie!’ Danny protested. ‘What’s going on?’
She quelled him with a look over her shoulder, then stopped and turned. ‘If you need to know, you’ll know soon enough. Now go inside, lad.’
Rachel followed Gladys’s strong figure, wrapped in her old black shawl. She looked at the hairpins holding Gladys’s thick plait in its old-fashioned bun, at the worn heels on her old black shoes below the hem of her skirt, at her walk which was just beginning to be a rock from one foot to the other through the stiffness of her joints. She was an impressive woman and, at this moment, at her most forbidding.
‘Come in ’ere a tick.’ She pushed open the door to the brew house, a small brick building at the end of the yard. It was gloomy inside. They squeezed in beside the mangle, a green, galvanized thing, and the shared copper under which a fire was lit to heat water for washing clothes. Each household in the yard took its turn in there. Rachel thought of her mother, slaving all those evenings away in the brew house in Floodgate Street. It felt very damp and smelt of ash and rough soap.
Gladys shut the door and turned to face her, arms folded. ‘Keep your voice down,’ she warned. Rachel saw her jaw clench. Her blue eyes were very solemn and never had their gaze seemed more intimidating. ‘Right, miss – w
hat’s going on?’
‘What d’you mean, Auntie?’ Rachel said, in genuine bewilderment.
Gladys shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Rachel thought she saw her soften slightly, a kinder light come into those piercing eyes. She stood, considering for a moment.
‘You’re not looking too well,’ she observed.
‘I do feel bad – off and on,’ Rachel said, adding hurriedly, ‘but I don’t want to let you down, Auntie – I can come to the market and help. I’m all right. I’ve just had a bit of an upset stomach.’
Gladys continued to look at her, her mind clearly working. ‘Just tell me one thing,’ she went on. ‘Last month, when I went to my Albert’s . . . With Amy and Jess . . .’
Rachel could feel a blush begin to rise in her neck as Gladys spoke. But she still did not fully understand.
‘You came to see Danny?’
‘Yes, Auntie, I did . . .’
Gladys’s eyes widened slightly. She swallowed, and it seemed an effort to bring out the next words. ‘Did you and Danny . . .’ She looked down, embarrassed. Rachel had never seen her look like that before. ‘You know what I mean? Did anything happen?’
The blush flooded across Rachel’s cheeks and she lowered her head. Did anything happen? Oh yes, something happened all right. She thought of Danny’s naked body moving against hers. It sent a thrill through her, just for a second. How did Auntie know?
‘I see.’ Her blushes seemed to tell Gladys everything she needed to know. Struggling to remain calm, she said, ‘And when did you start feeling bad?’
‘The morning after that very long raid . . . I thought it was just that I was tired, but . . .’ Tears rose in her and her throat hurt with it. ‘Come to think of it I felt funny before that, for a day or two – a bit sick when I woke of a morning. I just took no notice. Auntie – what . . . What does it mean?’
‘Heaven help you – the penny still hasn’t dropped, has it?’ Gladys said. ‘You’ve been feeling bad for a couple of weeks or more? It looks as if . . . Well, as if you’re expecting, bab.’
Rachel stared back at her, the words not making sense.
‘It’s early to tell, but by the look of things, you’re going to have a babby. If . . . Well, if you don’t lose it on the way. It can happen.’
Rachel’s heart was pounding so hard that her breathing could scarcely keep up. ‘But . . . Is that . . .? Is that how it . . .?’ She shook her head. ‘I never really knew, how it happens.’ Then she looked at Gladys in disbelief across the gloom. ‘But we only did it once – ever!’
Gladys shook her head. ‘Once can be enough. You’re both young and . . .’ She rolled her eyes and looked upwards for a moment. The anger had gone out of her. ‘Oh dear God.’
They stood in silence for a moment. Rachel gazed at Gladys, her eyes begging Danny’s auntie to say something, to tell her what to do. Gladys unfolded her arms, clasped her hands to her waist and drew in a deep breath.
‘Right,’ she said, with an effort. ‘What’s done’s done. Whatever I say can’t undo it now. We’ll go back in the house. Time to do some talking to Danny. He’s half of this – more than half if I know anything about men. And the little bugger can take his share of it – there’s no reason why you have to carry it all on your own. Come on.’ She ushered Rachel out and across the yard.
Danny looked up as they both appeared back inside. He seemed to feel a bit left out and looked puzzled and fed up. His eyes searched their faces.
‘Sit down, Rachel,’ Gladys said. As Rachel obeyed, not looking at Danny, Gladys stood over them, her feet apart, arms folded again.
‘Danny,’ she said in a forbidding tone. ‘Listen to me.’
Danny looked understandably apprehensive. ‘What?’ He looked from one to the other of them.
‘Danny – you’re sixteen years old and you’re a babe in arms, d’you know that?’ Gladys said. In that moment the harsh tone left her voice. She released her arms and leaned forwards, her hands on the table. To Rachel’s astonishment she saw that Gladys’s eyes were full of tears. ‘I remember the day you were born, lad. Loved you like my own, I did.’
Rachel watched his face, that face she loved. He glanced at her in confusion, then back to his aunt who was struggling to compose herself.
‘It looks as if our Rachel here’s in the family way, Danny.’ She spoke more gently now, but with a clear insistence that this was gravely important. ‘That means she’s going to have a babby – yours, Danny.’
Rachel would never forget the look of utter astonishment that came over Danny’s face. If a bolt of lightning had struck him he could not have looked more stunned.
‘A babby? What d’yer mean?’
‘You and her – remember?’ Gladys pointed at each of them in turn. ‘That’s how babbies are made, Danny.’
‘Rach?’ He turned to her. The thing she never forgot was that never, not once, did he look horrified, nor angry. There was just amazement. His mouth hung open.
‘I’ve been feeling a bit funny, Danny. And Auntie says . . .’
Danny closed his mouth. He swallowed and glanced at Gladys, then back at Rachel.
‘I s’pose that means we’ll have to get wed then – doesn’t it?’
Nineteen
January 1941
Rachel sat in her sagging seat, in the Grange Super Cinema in Small Heath. She and Danny were holding hands. His leg rested reassuringly against hers as they watched the Pathé newsreel. British and Commonwealth forces had taken the airport in Tobruk in North Africa . . . This was all Rachel took in before her mind wandered again.
She sat clutching Danny’s hand. They had only been to the pictures once before and that had been interrupted by an air raid. This time, although no sirens had gone off so far, she just could not keep her mind on the picture. She was starting to feel sick. The air was growing thick with smoke as people puffed their way nervously through the action. It felt as if the seat was closing in around her and she had to quell an urge to get up and fight her way out. On top of that, real life was the most pressing, frightening thing now. She could not escape into the story of the picture. She sat stroking a hand over her as yet flat stomach. If it were not for the fact that she felt so odd and different in herself, it would be impossible to take in that anything had changed. How could there be a baby in there? There was nothing to see at all.
It only takes the once, Gladys had said. Even so, she still had doubts that she was really carrying a child. Sometimes when she was playing with little Cissy she would gaze at her thinking, no! It couldn’t be that she was going to have a little child like her! She would go through periods of forgetting and be jolted back into remembering. I’m expecting . . . Oh my God.
She shifted restlessly in her seat, the acrid air burning her nostrils. Looking along the shadowy row of people she thought with dread about trying to get out. But what if she was sick in here? Sensing her restlessness, Danny turned to her. In the flickering light from the screen, she was struck by how young he looked. Another twinge of panic seized her. He was young. They both were. Help me, she thought. Don’t leave me, Danny. She leaned forwards, resting her head in her hands.
She felt Danny’s hand on her back and his breath on her ear. ‘What’s up? D’you want to go out?’
She hesitated, then nodded.
Amid the annoyed tuttings, they shuffled out. Rachel could no longer hold back her tears. The lady in the ticket office looked curiously at them so they hurried out into the freezing, blacked-out night. ‘Shut that door!’ she called after them. ‘That warden’ll be after me.’ Danny put an arm round Rachel’s shoulders.
‘Oh, Danny,’ she burst out as soon as they were in the Coventry Road. ‘What’re we going to do?’
Danny stopped her. ‘C’m’ere.’ He put his arms round her, hugging her to him. Both of them were shivering, the icy air biting into them.
‘We can’t just go on as if nothing’s happening,’ she sobbed. She tried not to make too much fuss but
she felt like crying her heart out.
She had struggled on, still going to work and getting through Christmas. She told her mother she was feeling a bit off colour. Fortunately, what with the exhausting nights of the raids and having to tend to Cissy’s needs, her mother had no energy to notice that there was anything different about her.
‘Rach, we’re going to be together, just you and me – that’s all that matters,’ Danny said into her hair.
‘But what’re we going to do?’ She pulled back and tried to see into his face in the darkness. ‘You won’t leave me, will you? You’ll stand by me?’
It was not the first time they had had this conversation but there was so little time together, what with work and everything else. And Gladys had suggested that for the moment they wait and see and think things through.
‘The babby won’t be showing for a bit yet. Let’s see if it takes – wait ’til you’re three months gone at least, before you make any rash decisions.’
Rachel felt, rather than saw, the serious way Danny was looking at her.
‘Did you mean it – about getting married?’ she asked in a small voice. It wasn’t the first time she had asked. She just kept needing reassurance.
‘Course I did – I keep telling yer,’ Danny said in his gruff way. ‘Look, Rach – I know this shouldn’t’ve happened like this. And we’re hardly more than kids ourselves.’ Even so she was surprised by how grown up he sounded at that moment. ‘But you’re my girl. You’re what I want – nothing else. Does it matter how old we are? We can get wed and look after each other. I love you, girl –’
She sobbed at the tenderness of his words, all her fear and worry pouring out. She felt as fragile as a little seed pod, blown by the wind.
‘D’you mean it, Danny – do you really? I love you too, but I don’t want to . . .’ She could not speak for crying.
‘What?’ he asked, stroking her back.
‘I don’t want to force you into it.’
‘No one’s forcing me. Not you and not Auntie. Look, Rach –’ His voice became nearly as emotional as hers. ‘It’s terrible not to have anyone. It’s the worst. And now I’ve got you – and you’re all I want.’