by Annie Murray
Molly blushed in delight.
‘Mind you, I wouldn’t mind a go sitting out there on a boat. Never done sea fishing, but one day . . .’ He gripped her hand. ‘When it’s all over, sunny days on a little boat, you there with me . . .’
‘You’re on,’ she said. It sounded like heaven to her as well.
‘Perhaps I’ll be a fisherman – move to the seaside.’
‘We could live up there.’ She pointed at a little cottage, remote, in the distance. A life unfolded in her imagination – the little house on the cliff, Tony, children . . .
‘I’d like to see where you live,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ve never been to Birmingham.’
Molly looked ahead of her, towards the empty sea. An image flashed into her mind of the poky house, Mom sitting there, sozzled as usual. Joe. Bert. After her sweet fantasy, it was like being slapped.
‘No yer don’t,’ she said tersely, patting her pocket in search of cigarettes. ‘There’s nothing much to see.’ They both lit up, the breeze seeming to suck the smoke away from their lips.
‘But love, I want to see where you were when you was growing up. It’s natural to want to.’
She turned to him. He was sweet like that, the way he thought family was so important. ‘No, yer don’t, Tony. I’ll tell yer summat, I can’t think of anything worse than going back there again – to stay there, I mean. There’s nothing there for me. It ain’t home, or family, it’s just where I was young, that’s all. I had no choice then.’
‘Molly?’ He was startled by her bitterness, but she knew too, somehow, that it was something wounded in each of them that drew them together, something they shared. She laid a hand on his khaki thigh. Under the tough cloth, his leg felt lean and tough-muscled.
‘Look, just take my word for it, will yer? Can I meet your family?’
‘Course. They’d love you. There’s only one thing . . .’
‘What?’
‘Well – them being Catholic . . .’
Molly frowned. ‘Yeah – you said before. So you’re Catholic then?’ she asked uncertainly.
‘Yes. Course. But Ma – she’s very devout. Her faith means the world to her.’
‘Well – that’s all right.’ She couldn’t think what else to say on the subject. Religion was outside her experience. Half joking, she added, ‘They’re not too posh are they?’
‘Posh? No – course not.’ Tony chuckled. ‘What gave you that idea, you silly?’
‘Dunno.’ She pulled the head off a piece of grass, scattering the seeds. ‘When?’
Tony, in turn, picked a piece of bracken, shredding the leaves off it. ‘When we’ve finished here, I’m due leave. Before the next posting. End of the month. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of you getting any?’
‘P’raps. I haven’t taken leave yet.’
‘Didn’t you get any after basic?’
‘Didn’t bother with it. Nowhere I wanted to go.’
He leaned close and kissed her cheek, taking a wisp of her hair between his fingers, looking at it in wonder. ‘You’re so lovely, d’you know that? Your hair’s just – well, it’s magnificent.’
‘Magnificent?’ Molly giggled, head back. It was so strange, someone saying nice things to her and meaning them.
‘It is. You are. God, girl . . . I’ve never seen anyone as fine as you before.’ He stared longingly at her. ‘Let me kiss you again.’
Laughingly she turned to him, pouting her lips to be kissed. Then she stopped him and said seriously, ‘I’ve never been happy before – not like this. When you’re young, life’s . . . a misery. Everyone pushes you around.’
That sour look on his face again. ‘Yeah. You can say that again.’
‘It’s much better now – even in the army.’ She wanted him to look happy, to chase away the cloud. And he did.
‘Yeah.’
She wrapped her arms around him. ‘I’d do anything for you, Tony – d’you know that?’
‘And I would for you,’ he said into her hair. ‘You crazy Brummie girl. I love you to bits.’
Some of their free time coincided in the daytime, though more often they were together late in the evening, when the work was finished. Molly’s days were full of food preparation and the endless cycle of cooking and clearing up. Tony spent much of every day practising out on the gun park, rain, wind or shine.
‘I’m glad we’ve come over here in the summer,’ he said. ‘It must be bloody bitter in winter.’
His face was taking on a tan now, which Molly thought made him look more handsome than before. Her own nose and cheeks had caught the sun too. She had never felt so well and happy in her life, and her good spirits even extended to the work. She would still do her best in the army, even if she was a cook. It could still be her chance to better herself.
Having spotted the girls from the first billet on the camp, Molly had rather hoped she wouldn’t bump into them often, other than sometimes serving their meals. She particularly didn’t want to bump into Ruth. Unfortunately she soon realized that the General Duties ATS and the other women there training were all sharing the sanitary block. There wasn’t much privacy in the primitive building – a row of washbasins with a door at each end and howling draughts passing through – where they were all expected to try and perform all their intimate washing. There were also bath cubicles, which were a bit less draughty.
The girls who were working in the gun park all day wanted nothing more than to soak in the bath for as long as possible, which made it difficult to get a bathroom. One evening Molly was in a tearing hurry to get out and be with Tony, but, ever particular about keeping clean, she wanted to make sure of bathing and washing her hair first. She hurried to the block only to find that all the baths were already occupied. After waiting for a while, she started to get impatient.
‘Come on, you lot – isn’t anyone finished in there yet?’ She knocked on a few of the doors to chivvy them out. ‘You’ve all been in there flippin’ ages!’
None of the occupants bothered to answer and after waiting a little longer, almost hopping from foot to foot with impatience, Molly rapped hard on one of the doors again.
‘You nearly finished in there? Come on, for heaven’s sake!’
A moment later the door flew open and a very irate Ruth appeared, hair tousled, her towel and washbag bundled up in her arms.
‘I might have known it was you!’ she said furiously, her cheeks all pink. ‘You’ve got a damned sauce coming and shouting at us like that. It’s all right for you general duties people – some of us are out there doing a proper job of work all day! But I don’t suppose anything like that would occur to you, would it?’
She strode off without even giving Molly time to apologize – not that she was intending to. She stuck her tongue out at Ruth’s departing back, just as one of the girls who worked in the stores came out from her bath. She grinned at Molly.
‘That told you, didn’t it? Madam’s one of those Kinnys, isn’t she? They think they’re way above everyone else.’
‘Oh well,’ Molly said, rushing in to claim the bath. ‘Sod her.’
She had more luck with Honor, who was always willing to have a chat if there was time. They got together for a tea break together one morning, sitting each side of the end of one of the long tables. Looking across at Honor, Molly thought her face had filled out a little and there were signs of colour in her cheeks.
‘You’re looking well on it,’ she said.
Honour gave her tinkly laugh, lifting her cup to her lips. ‘I feel well. All this fresh air and stalwart food! It’s done me good to get away from home. It’s so very sad without Nanny there. And Mummy and Daddy never really needed me anyway!’ For a moment, her large eyes were full of sadness.
Molly was struck yet again by Honor’s strange openness, especially when she added, ‘I really don’t know why some people have children. There should be a law against it!’
She looked at Molly. ‘Sorry. I’m keeping on again. How are
you, Molly? You look fighting fit as well.’
‘I’m all right – very!’ Molly said.
‘Funny meeting up like this. We’re all scattered about, the basic training lot. There’s no telling where people might turn up.’
‘I never heard from Lena – the girl from Walsall.’ Molly had been rather hurt by this. She’d thought Lena was her friend, even though she’d found her a bit odd. ‘There was some talk about her being a driver but I don’t know if that’s what she did.’
‘Oh – didn’t you know?’ Honor said. ‘Now who told me this? Maybe Win – I ran into her somewhere. Win’s off in the Ministry of Information or something pukka like that now, but I met up with her a couple of months ago . . . Lena left the service, very early on. Her brother was killed – one of those poor boys in the Atlantic. And her mother went to pieces. She had to go home and be with her, so I gather.’
No – I never heard,’ Molly said, very shocked. ‘God, that’s terrible. She was ever so fond of him, as well.’
‘She was,’ Honor said thoughtfully. She put her head on one side. ‘It’s strange, rather an awful thing to say I suppose, but when you don’t have any brothers or sisters, it’s hard to imagine how you’d feel. Do you have brothers and sisters, Molly?’
‘None to speak of, no.’
Honor gave a puzzled frown, then smiled. ‘What on earth does that mean, Molly? You are a funny girl, you really are!’
Twenty-One
Through most of July the weather was fair, and even when it wasn’t, Molly didn’t notice. For her, it was a month lit up by sunshine and warmth in this beautiful place, and by the miracle of having Tony near, made all the more precious by knowing it was soon going to end when he was re-posted.
Most evenings, once they were free, they went out. The trip invariably took in the pub, beers quickly drunk down so that they could go out into the country lanes and be alone. Sometimes they bought an extra bottle to take away with them and spent the evening in a laughing, kissing haze. Though they held back from it, Molly knew that both of them could easily tilt over into drinking too much, that Tony was like her in that way.
One evening they had sneaked over the gate into a pasture and hidden themselves near the hedge, lying on Tony’s jacket. The sun was going down fast and midges hung in a fidgeting cloud above their heads.
‘We could go down to the sea one day,’ Molly said muzzily. She felt warm, half-drunk and contented.
Tony, resting back on one elbow, tilted his head back, swigging from a bottle. He swallowed, then said, ‘Can you swim?’
‘No – course not. Why – can you?’ She sat up, excited. ‘You could teach me! Some of the beaches are open round here – little coves . . .’
‘No – I can’t either.’ He turned to look at her, and in their tipsy state this seemed so funny that they lay together cackling with laughter.
‘We’re ’opeless,’ Molly laughed. ‘We can’t do anything, neither of us!’
‘You can cook porridge – well, after a fashion!’
‘Huh – you cheeky so-and-so!’ She tickled him, giggling. ‘And you can fire an ack-ack gun, Mr God Almighty, Royal Artillery!’
‘That’s me.’ He pulled her closer. ‘Give us a kiss.’
They lay twined together. It had been the same every night for a while now, each time longing for each other more and more.
‘Tell you what else I wish I could do,’ he said. ‘And no mucking about.’
The laughter left Molly’s face. She knew he was serious, and she knew she wanted him too, not like the others she had always pushed off once they’d got excited. But she was afraid all the same.
‘Have you ever . . . ?’ She could see he found it difficult to ask.
‘No.’ She looked down, shame washing through her in a blush she hoped he wouldn’t notice in the half light. She hadn’t, had she? She had never given herself fully to a man – course she hadn’t! Even her grandfather’s fumblings, messing with her, groping at himself, had never involved the full thing, not as she understood it. But she didn’t feel like a virgin. She felt used, soiled.
‘Have you?’ She raised her eyes to him.
‘Nah. Not – you know, all the way . . . Too risky. And Catholic girls – well, they won’t, least, not the ones round our way.’
For a moment they heard voices in the lane the other side of the hedge – another couple, chatting and laughing – and they both froze. But the couple passed.
‘Phew!’ Molly said.
‘I love you, Moll.’ He pulled her close to him, his eyes imploring. ‘And I’ll be gone soon. I want you, girl.’
‘I know,’ she said. It was all easier when she’d been drinking, she knew – it always had been. And she knew her eyes had said yes.
The sky was already sunset pink when they set off that evening. Molly slipped out of the cookhouse, leaving the washing-up fatigues to finish off. She and Tony stopped to pick up bottles of beer, which they started on as they set off into the fields.
‘Well, I’m glamorous as ever,’ Molly observed, looking ruefully down at her ATS uniform and flat shoes. She was very nervous, her palms sweating, and hoped Tony couldn’t tell.
He squeezed her round the waist. ‘Stuff the clothes. You’re gorgeous, girl.’
Molly giggled. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Up here – shhh.’ A bit further along the country road he swung her up a lane. ‘Up the end here there’s a place . . . Look – quick – run!’
He snatched at her hand and they were tearing along the rutted track, Molly gasping with laughter.
‘Stop, you mad sod, stop, I’m gunna trip up! Tony – where’re we going – slow down!’
‘Shhh, you noisy great thing – you’ll have all the farmers on our tails!’
They came to a low building of blackened corrugated iron.
‘Is it a barn?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘More of a feed store for the cows. It should be all right.’
‘How d’you know?’
‘I don’t – I’m hoping for the best. Come on – there’s not much hay in here but we’ll be all right if we go right to the back.’
The store was open along one side and there were some bales stacked just inside. Tony disappeared behind them.
‘Where are yer?’ Giggles were still fizzing out of her. ‘It’s dark.’
‘Here – come on—’ He popped his head out and held out his hand to lead her in. ‘And I’ve got a torch – it’s not really dark – not yet, anyhow.’
Molly stepped inside, smelling the sweet, musty hay. The giggles subsided. She shivered suddenly.
Tony busied himself lifting bales, making a nest at the back. Then he picked up one of the bottles and swigged. He offered it to her and she took it, gratefully, drinking down as much as she could. The time had come – she had promised him, sort of – and she felt cold and closed. Now her eyes had got used to it, it wasn’t yet dark. Everything was black and grey, like an engraving. She could see him watching her. He took the bottle from her and set it down, then put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes.
‘Molly Fox, I love you and I want to be with you – for always. Will you be my wife?’
‘What?’ Molly was so startled she set off giggling again, and immediately regretted it because Tony was completely serious. ‘You mean . . . get married?’
‘Course that’s what I mean. Make it proper. Will you?’
‘Well . . . yes! Course I will – yes!’ She jumped with excitement. ‘D’you mean it? I love yer, Tony, I truly do. I want to be your wife. And I’ll be a Catholic if you want.’
‘God, yes – I should’ve said. You’d have to. I mean, my mum . . . We’ll have to see a priest – that’d be the best thing.’ He closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her. ‘It doesn’t matter to me – I just want you.’
‘Oh Tony – my Tony!’ She was so happy that tears began to run down her cheeks. ‘All I want is to be with you. I’ve never ha
d anyone want me before!’
Startled, he drew back and looked at her eager face, moved. ‘Oh girl,’ he said tenderly. ‘That can’t be true – it can’t. But I want you.’
Gently he unfastened her jacket, fumbling with the buttons. She watched his furrowed eyebrows as he tried to see in the dusk, loving the way he looked when he was serous like that. It made her feel very tender in return.
‘We’ll make a bed with our clothes,’ he said. Soon the hay was a patchwork of garments. When he undressed she was afraid of the sight of him, his thin white body, taut and aroused, his maleness. A moment of panic filled her. How could she do this? It was all so strange, yet so horribly familiar. Just keep calm, she told herself. This is Tony, your Tony. He loves you – he doesn’t want to harm you.
‘My God, look at you—’ He ran his hands down her arms, over her generous hips, gently touched her breasts. ‘You’re magnificent . . .’
Hysterical giggles rose in her again but she pushed them down. She couldn’t seem to look at him, or speak, although she wanted to say something loving to him.
‘Don’t be scared.’ He seemed moved by the timid thing she had become. He held her close, hands gently moving down her back, stroking her buttocks. Molly closed her eyes, her head pressed against his shoulder. Moving her fingers up and down she explored the long, warm dip of his spine, the taut muscles on either side of it. The skin of his lower back felt marked with ridges. She frowned, tracing them with her fingertips. Tony’s breathing was fast and excited. He kissed her hair, nuzzled for her lips. Sensations poured in, overwhelming her: the tense hardness of his body, his smell, sweat and salt, his man’s thing pressed insistently against her stomach, the realization that he, too, was trembling.
‘Come and lie down,’ he said, his breathing short. Molly obeyed, lying back on the scratchy khaki clothes, and he, a lithe shadow, came down beside her. He caught her ribs with his elbow.