by Annie Murray
Irene folded her arms at this and looked fed up. ‘Each to their own,’ she said grumpily.
‘Come on, Danny – get yerself down the pub for a pint or two!’ Mo commanded, standing in their doorway. ‘You’re a man now, lad, no good sitting at home with the wenches all your life! It’ll send you soft in the ’ead!’
Danny grinned, clearly pleased.
‘What’re you going to do now you’re back then?’ Mo said as Danny got up to fetch his cap. ‘Back on the markets?’
‘I dunno,’ Danny said. ‘I might. My army pay’ll tide us over for a week or two.’ He looked at Rachel and Gladys. ‘All right if I go?’
‘Go on,’ Rachel said. ‘Go and see the lads.’ She was secretly glad that she would be able to get Tommy off to bed without Danny sitting waiting for her downstairs. To her enormous relief Tommy seemed to have settled in the other bed, probably because he still had his sister with him.
‘Did he wake up?’ she asked Melly.
‘He woke a little bit,’ she reported. ‘Two times. And I gave him a pat, like you said, and he went back to sleep.’
‘There’s a good girl,’ Rachel said, full of warm gratitude for her responsible little daughter. ‘You’re such a help to me, Melly. You’re a real good girl.’
‘Come on, lad –’ Mo hauled Danny out with an arm around his shoulders. ‘You come down the boozer with me and see the lads – we’ll have you in a job of work by the time you get home again!’
Forty
After all the years of longing and waiting, Rachel found those first weeks after Danny’s homecoming a bitter disappointment.
‘He might take a while to settle,’ Gladys had tried to warn her. Gladys had seen it all before with the men coming home after the last war. But Rachel had not been able to imagine this, or anything other than Danny coming home and just being the Danny she had known before. And she desperately needed to lean on him, for him to be a strong support for her.
As it was, she spent her days with a sick feeling from all the tension building up inside her. Danny drifted in and out, sometimes almost his old self, but a lot of the time seeming distant and cut off from them all. Sometimes she almost forgot he was home. She felt just as burdened by everything as before, but with the additional pain of this lack in her husband.
Within a few days of his return, Dolly Morrison came round to tell Danny that a Mr Rose along the street was looking for a worker in his watch-repair business.
‘That sounds all right,’ Rachel said brightly. ‘You keep saying you don’t want to work in a big factory, don’t you, Danny?’
Danny was, as usual, sitting by the fire, smoking and staring at nothing. ‘Yeah. All right.’
‘He’s a nice old gentleman,’ Dolly said with a glance at Gladys that said, Oh dear, this doesn’t look too good. ‘Says his eyes are failing him now. But he’s happy to take on someone who’s been fighting for King and country.’
‘Huh.’ Danny gave a cynical snort.
The three women all looked at each other. Rachel’s eyes filled with tears and she saw Dolly notice this.
‘Eh, Danny, come on,’ Dolly said, sinking onto a chair as if the weight of her swollen belly was too much for her. ‘You know you might feel a bit better for getting out and doing some work, bab. No good sitting here with nowt to do. That’d make anyone feel a bit blue.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Danny said, an edge of irritation in his voice. ‘I said I would, dain’t I?’
Any hint of anyone telling him what to do and he was full of rage. Rachel found this when she tried to explain to him how to deal with Tommy. One night she had been showing him how she strapped Tommy’s braces on. When she corrected something he was doing, he stormed out of the house in a rage. He came back later and lay in her arms, sorry by then, and upset.
‘I dain’t mean it – I don’t know why I feel so pent up the way I do . . . I know you’ve had it bad, Rach – I just don’t know what to do . . .’ None of it was making life easier. Melly moved around him with great caution, as if he was some sort of wild animal with claws that might lash out. At times Rachel found herself wishing powerfully that he had never come home.
Danny went to work with Mr Rose in the front room of his little terraced house. Mr Rose began to teach him all he knew about watch mechanisms and jewellery repair. Danny pointed him out to Rachel in the street one day and she saw a slightly stooped man with silver-grey hair and a neat beard, walking with the aid of a stick. She immediately liked the look of Mr Rose. He had a strong-featured, sympathetic face.
‘There you are, my boy!’ He raised the stick in a wave.
‘All right, Mr Rose?’ Danny said, appearing to be shy of him.
They were out with the children. Danny had been very unsure about going out with Tommy in that ramshackle chair. ‘You don’t take him out, do you – in that?’ he said in horror.
‘Yes, Danny – I do,’ Rachel retorted, in a voice of such fierce finality that he did not dare argue. ‘For one thing he’s too big for the pram and Dolly’s going to need it back. This’ll have to do for now – I’m not having him shut away like a prisoner for things he can’t help. If other people don’t like it, they’ll have to put up with it.’
But she could see that Danny was embarrassed when Mr Rose came over.
‘So this is your family, Daniel?’
Rachel was startled, never once having heard him called by his proper name before. Mr Rose had a very nice voice, she thought, deep and well spoken. He seemed a refined sort of man.
Danny nodded, introducing Rachel. She shook Mr Rose’s small, cool hand. He shook hands with Melanie too.
‘Hello, little Melanie,’ he said. ‘What a pretty name.’ Melly beamed up at him, enchanted by this elderly stranger.
‘And your boy?’ Mr Rose looked down at Tommy, a kindly light in his eyes. ‘He has some problem with his legs?’
Rachel saw Danny look away, as if detaching himself from the situation.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He was born with bad legs. He can’t walk.’ She felt tearful at the sight of the sheer benevolence in the old man’s eyes.
‘That is a difficult thing,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘And not easy for his mother either.’ He looked at her. ‘You know . . .’ He moved a fraction closer. ‘I had a cousin who was much like this. Can he speak?’
‘No – well a bit. But he understands—’
Mr Rose raised a hand as if she had said something very important. ‘Understands – exactly, my dear! You must never think, as so many do, that poor muscles in the body mean a brain that does not tick along like the finest of clocks! My aunt – she worked and worked with our cousin Sam. And he was such a lively boy, you know, when they took some time with him. He died young, alas, of influenza – only made twenty-five or so. But they took trouble with him and he learned, he responded. I know it is not easy.’ He smiled down at Tommy. Danny turned to watch. ‘Hello, little fellow.’
Tommy’s eyes lit up and he made a happy sound and squirmed with happiness, his mouth working.
‘That’s “Hello”, I think!’ Rachel laughed.
‘There you are, you see – a mother always knows!’ Mr Rose patted Danny’s shoulder. ‘You have a fine family, my boy. You are very lucky.’
However, Danny worked for Mr Rose for only nine days before coming home saying he had packed the job in.
‘What?’ Rachel erupted, more upset because Mr Rose had been so kind than she would have been about any other job. ‘But why? He’s such a nice old man as well.’
Danny shrugged resentfully. ‘I’ve just had enough. There’s other jobs. I haven’t got to stay there.’
He told her that Mr Rose had sat him down, when he said he was leaving, and given him a lecture about how he would never get anywhere in life if he didn’t stick at something, a rolling stone and so on. This seemed to have made Danny even more determined to leave.
‘Well, I suppose there are other jobs,’ Gladys said, trying to smooth things ove
r, as she could see how upset Rachel was. ‘And you can come up the market and help me again, Sat’d’y.’
Later, she said to Rachel, ‘He’s like a lost soul. Tell you what – I’ll take him over to see Jess and Amy on Sunday. Change of scene. That might perk him up a bit.’
‘All right,’ Rachel said, alarmed at the extent of the relief she felt that Danny would be out for the day. ‘I might take the littl’uns over to Mom’s – she hasn’t seen them in a while.’
Tommy’s stiff legs would not wrap around her hip so she had to carry him in front of her, cradled in a blanket. He was not too heavy yet but it still tugged at her back and she was very relieved when a man gave her his seat on the tram into town.
‘You look as if you need it more than I do, bab,’ he said kindly.
Melly stood beside them holding on tight and Tommy enjoyed sitting on Rachel’s lap, gazing around at everything. His legs were hidden in the blanket, but his arms were free and his bad left arm was clenched close to his body. As he looked about him, excited by being out, his mouth kept opening and his tongue sliding out and in again. Rachel could see people looking at him, then away, wondering. But on the trolleybus out to Hay Mills, a woman sitting right behind them started making observations to her neighbour with no attempt to lower her voice.
‘It’s not right, bringing them out where everyone can see them. It’s not nice.’
There was a pause, until the other one said, ‘He’s not a bad-looking child really. It’s a shame.’
‘All the same,’ her friend said in an officious tone. ‘There are homes for oddities like that. We don’t need to see them. She ought to have more shame.’
Rachel clenched her hands hard on Tommy’s blanket, so tight inside with outrage that she could hardly breathe. She saw Melly looking at her sharpened knuckles, then up at her face with wide eyes. Melly knew the woman was talking about her brother. Rachel looked at her daughter’s solemn face, then away out of the window. Nasty, ignorant old cow! she raged to herself. She ought to be used to it by now, she thought. But could you ever get used to it – to the feeling of being stabbed by people’s stupid, cruel words? The hurt, angry, protective feelings flamed in her on Tommy’s behalf every time. And it was not as if her own mother was any better. Getting off the bus in the Coventry Road, still breathing shallow, upset breaths, she prepared herself for Peggy.
‘Oh – it’s you,’ Fred Horton said, without enthusiasm, opening the door. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, his jacket swinging open, and he looked half-asleep. ‘We weren’t expecting you. You’d better come in. Sidney’s coming over later.’
Oh, I’ll be long out of here by the time he comes round, Rachel vowed, following her stepfather’s burly figure upstairs to the flat. To her great disappointment, the Germans had not succeeded in depriving her of her stepbrother. He was back, full of himself and soon to be married. Peggy had mentioned that Rachel must come to the wedding with Melly – but of course, not Tommy. She was determined not to go at all.
‘Oh – Rachel,’ Peggy said, rousing herself in her chair by the fire. ‘I thought it might be you – though it’d be nice if you gave us warning. You could send me a postcard if you’re coming.’
‘Yes, I s’pose I could,’ Rachel said, without the intention of doing anything of the sort. Was her mother planning to pay for the stamp? she wondered sourly, sitting down with Tommy on her lap. She winced at the pain in her back.
Cissy, who had been sitting quietly at the table with a picture book, came running over. Cissy spent a lot of her life being quiet. ‘Now just sit there for a bit and let me have some peace, Cissy . . . You be quiet now, your father needs a rest . . . ’ Cissy was six now, a cheerful child with pale, carroty curls, parted on the left side and pinned back off her face. She was obedient – Rachel could see that it had never occurred to her not to be – and had a nice nature. She absolutely adored Melanie and was always doting and sweet with Tommy. Cissy was the main reason now that Rachel kept up any visits to her mother and Fred at all.
‘Here, Ciss –’ She held out a little bag. ‘I saved my ration of rocks for you two. Look, there’s a few Dainty Dinahs and a bit of liquorice.’
The girls took the toffees and liquorice off into the corner and were soon giggling away, sharing them out, cheeks bulging. Rachel glanced affectionately at them. They could make a game out of nothing, those two. Tommy watched them and gurgled excitedly. Rachel was longing for a cup of tea, but she obviously wasn’t going to be offered one.
Fred made himself scarce, down to the shop, and Peggy sat back in her chair with a sigh. She was wearing her Sunday best, a brown wool suit and cream blouse, which she had made herself. Not that she ever went to church. She was still a pretty woman, her frizzy curls of hair pinned back in a bun and arranged softly to frame her face. She’s ageing well, Rachel thought. Not like me. She felt thin and scraggy in comparison. Not that Peggy ever asked how she was feeling.
‘Does that child really have to dribble so much?’ Peggy said, giving Tommy a look of distaste. ‘It’s really very offputting.’
‘He can’t help it – it’s his tongue,’ Rachel said, wiping Tommy’s chin with the rag she kept in her pocket. It was already soggy in her hand. Instead of the anger she often felt, she had a shrinking, defeated feeling.
‘So – how are you?’ she asked mechanically, wondering why she ever came here or hoped for anything from Peggy.
There followed a long list of complaints about the tiresome details of Peggy’s life, the shortages of everything, rationing, how very tired she was with all the work she still had to do, the way things seemed worse than when the war was on.
‘Mom,’ Rachel interrupted after a time. ‘Danny’s home.’
Peggy sat up straighter. ‘When? Why didn’t you say?’
‘You never asked,’ Rachel retorted. ‘He got home two weeks ago – a bit more than.’
‘Well, about time,’ Peggy said. ‘You need a man to keep you – I hope he’s got a good job. I’ve had enough of worrying about whether you and that gypsy woman are looking after my grandchildren properly.’
Rachel almost laughed at this. When had Mom ever worried about her and the kids, or lifted a finger to help in any way? By now she was used to Mom being rude about Gladys. She ignored such remarks.
‘He is . . . all right?’ Peggy asked.
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Not – injured at all?’
‘No,’ Rachel said. ‘He’s all right.’
‘And has he got himself a job?’
‘Yes,’ Rachel said. Of course he had found a job. As soon as he’d packed in the last one, he’d been taken on by another older man, Mr Jones, whose business, making carts and basket carriages, had also expanded to include filling accumulators for wirelesses. It was when they took Gladys’s wireless to him to be fixed that Mr Jones said he could do with a hand.
Dolly laughed when she heard Danny had gone to work for Lofty Jones, a tall, gangling man in his fifties.
‘Old Lofty’s carried a flame for Gladys for years – no wonder he’s taken Danny on!’
This was news to Rachel. She also wondered how long that would last – Danny said the stink of acid for the accumulators was horrible and he came home smelling of it.
Cissy and Melanie came over then, still chewing, their breath full of sugar, wanting to play with Tommy. They stood each side of him, chatting to him and tickling him, and Tommy was in heaven at all the attention. Cissy looked up, pink cheeked.
‘He’s funny,’ she said, giggling and stroking Tommy’s cheek with her finger. Rachel looked lovingly at her. Dear old Cissy! At least someone appreciated Tommy.
‘Mom –’ Peggy looked as if she was falling into a doze across the room. ‘Is there any chance of a cup of tea?’
Peggy looked at the clock. It was half past three. ‘Oh, I don’t think we need – not until Sidney gets here.’
‘I’ve got to go soon,’ Rachel said. She could see what her mother
was after – that she would end up making tea for Sidney. That was going to happen over her dead body. ‘I’ll make it if you like – only it takes me a good while to get home. I could really do with it.’
‘All right, if you must,’ Peggy said languidly. ‘I must say, I do feel so terribly tired today.’
In the kitchen, while she waited for the water to boil, Rachel looked out at the same old view over the yard which was hemmed in by the adjacent row of houses Nothing much had changed – the place was as it had always been, only all the drabber from the war years. She thought back to living here with her mother and Fred and within seconds she was filled with a bursting desire to escape.
Thank God for Danny, she thought, and for Gladys. A wave of desperate love filled her for her husband. She thought of them over in Sutton Coldfield and hoped it would help Danny feel he had come back home. She ached for the old Danny, the boy with the dancing blue eyes, so full of life. The Danny who had come home seemed so lost and distant. She knew she must try harder to find out what was troubling him. She could see that he had no idea what to do or how to feel. However exhausted she was herself, she knew she had to try and try or they would lose each other. As the water began to boil for the tea, she wiped away the tears which had started running down her cheeks.
She arrived home before the others and set about feeding the children.
‘I wish Cissy lived next door,’ Melly said as she spooned up her watery mince.
‘Yes, that’d be nice,’ Rachel said, though thanking her stars she did not live next door to her mother. ‘But you’ve got Rita and Shirley to play with – and Evie.’
‘Ye-es.’ Melly put her head on one side. ‘But Cissy’s nicer – and I don’t like those girls’ mom.’
‘Well, you don’t have to play with her, do you?’ Rachel said.
‘Poor Evie,’ Melly said suddenly.
‘What d’you mean?’ Like everyone in the yard, Rachel was uneasy about Irene’s attitude to her youngest daughter, whom she had taken against on sight.