A Little Love

by Amanda Prowse

  The same handsome boys and groomed girls who only a month before had sipped at their Pimm’s and danced to the jazz band in the ornate marquee now filled the dark wooden pews, sniffing into tissues that soaked up their distress. Piers Parkinson-Boater stood in full dress uniform, his medals glinting in the candlelight. Tears ran down his tanned face, which he did nothing to stem.

  Pru, anesthetised, stumbled ghost-like through the proceedings, quietly watching the seconds tick by until she could return to her bed and hide. Her eyes darted, unable to focus on the Union-flag-draped coffin that stood beneath the wooden boards listing similarly titled men who had lost their lives fighting for their country. Maybe if William had passed in service for his country, it would not have felt quite so pointless. And Bobby, next to the man she loved, beneath the altar, just as she had wished. The girl with a child-like spirit who filled each room with light, gone, wiped out.

  The vicar began to speak but his words became distorted inside her head, as if she was listening to them under water. Then without warning her hearing crystallised to register the line, ‘These two young people united in death as they were in life, in love and before Christ’s image on the cross as they would have been on their wedding day.’

  A muffled scream came from the back of the church. The majority of the congregation didn’t turn round – out of politeness, or respect – but Pru did, she couldn’t help herself. She turned just in time to see a flash of mousy brown hair disappear through the heavy church door.

  As the mourners trooped out of the church and towards the plot, freshly excavated and awaiting the young lovers, Pru scanned the graveyard. Spying what she was looking for, she padded across the spongy grass. And there she was, the girl from the hospital, peeking from behind a large cedar tree, staring into space.

  ‘I thought I saw you. It’s Megan, isn’t it?’ Pru spoke softly, not wanting to alarm the girl. ‘I saw you before at the hospital, do you remember me?’

  The girl nodded, blinking slowly. Her hair hung limply either side of her pale face, glued to her forehead in lank strands by the mist of rain that continued to settle over them. She looked exhausted and desperately sad. Pru sank down by her side.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you today, have you come far?’

  Megan whispered to the grass. ‘London. I got the train, then a cab.’

  ‘That’s quite a trek. He must have meant a lot to you.’

  Pru could hear the sobs coming from across the graveyard: that would be the moment that the bodies were committed to the ground. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her thoughts. She had no desire to see it, didn’t want that image in her head. It was enough that she could picture Bobby pale and lifeless on a trolley.

  ‘Are you that girl’s nan?’ Megan looked up.

  ‘No. My name is Pru and Bobby was my niece, but I brought her up.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t do a very good job! I don’t know who she thought she was! Messing up my life.’

  Pru tightened her mouth and narrowed her gaze. ‘Why would you say something like that? She was a wonderful girl and I loved her very much. She is not yet in the ground and I would appreciate it if you showed her a bit more respect. I thought you might need help, that’s why I came over to talk to you. I was mistaken.’ Pru stood and dusted off her skirt, some pine needles, sticky with sap, stuck to her palms as she did so.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Megan shook her head and let a fresh wave of tears cascade down her face. She made no attempt to dry them or cover her sadness. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have come today, but I had to, I wanted to see where he was buried. I waited until the last minute to sneak in. I didn’t want to see anyone. Bill said his family wouldn’t be happy about the baby and that we had to keep it a secret until they got used to the idea, but I never expected anything like this.’

  ‘The baby?’

  ‘Our baby. Bill was my fiancé.’ Megan ran her hand over her bump protectively.

  ‘Your fiancé?’

  ‘Yes. I’m due in two months. And now I’ve just found out he had another bird. I can’t believe it!’

  Pru tried to digest this new information. Billy-boy a philanderer? About to become a father? Poor, trusting Bobby. It was mortifying to hear her referred to as the other woman. Becoming William’s fiancée, his future wife, had been her greatest joy. Was this girl for real? Eight weeks! In just eight weeks there would be a baby.

  Megan sniffed. ‘Bill said that things were going to change. That living like this would be temporary, that we’d go and get our house.’ She twisted her soggy tissue into a ball and looked up at Pru. ‘And I felt like I’d won the bloody lottery, not cos of the money, but because I had him, an army officer! I couldn’t believe he would love someone like me, but he swore he did, he really did! I felt loved.’

  Pru watched as the girl’s face crumpled and the strength left her legs. She folded like a rag doll and slumped down on the grass under the tree. ‘What am I going to do without him? I loved him. We’re having a baby! I’ve got nothing without him, nothing.’ Raising her knees, she placed her head in her hands and cried. ‘He promised me he would take care of us. He sent me a brochure of a house in Ashford that he wanted us to go and see. It was on a little estate and it had a dishwasher and new carpets that came with it and a proper garden, with grass.’

  ‘Ashford, Kent. Not too far, but just far enough.’

  ‘Eh? Just far enough for what?’

  Pru grimaced but did not reply.

  Megan drew breath. ‘I knew deep down it wouldn’t really happen, not to someone like me. I knew it, but I didn’t want to believe it!’

  Had Billy-boy really been fooling them all? Stringing Bobby along, hurting everyone? Pru shuddered. Despite it all, her heart ached for this little girl who had been promised security and a little love – everybody’s dream.

  ‘Come on, Megan, try not to cry, love. It’ll only make you feel worse.’

  Megan stuttered and coughed. ‘I couldn’t feel any worse. If I wasn’t pregnant, I swear I’d top meself and go and join him, I would. I’ve got nothing without him, nothing at all. And all I can think of now is that he was going to marry someone else – that was what that vicar said! I heard it and I know vicars don’t lie, but that’s what he said and I can’t believe it. When your mate asked if I knew Bobby, I wasn’t thinking straight, but I thought it was a bloke, an army mate of his or something.’ She shook her head. ‘Were they really going to get married?’

  ‘Yes, Megan, they were. I don’t know what to say to you, other than it all seems like a horrible mess.’

  ‘It wasn’t a mess! It was all very straightforward. We are having a baby and we were getting a house. But now he’s gone and died and everything’s dissolved. Am I supposed to believe he was marrying someone else? I don’t know what to believe! I can’t think straight.’

  ‘It seems like he was seeing you both and obviously neither of you knew about the other.’ Pru shook her head at the improbability of it.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. I had no idea.’ Megan clutched at her tummy.

  ‘No, I can see that.’

  She looked up at Pru, like a child, not a young woman about to become a mother. ‘What would have happened to me, to our baby?’

  Pru sat up straight. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  Megan howled then, not caring who heard, and collapsed into herself.

  Pru edged closer. ‘Please don’t cry, it’s all right.’ It was almost as if Megan were Bobby just woken from a bad dream. Faced with this young woman in need, Pru felt her natural desire to fix things kick in. She wanted to help.

  The two sat in silence for a minute until Megan stood up. ‘I’ve got to go.’ She stepped towards the gate but as Pru started to follow her she turned, angry. ‘Look, you don’t even know me, so just fuck off, leave me alone. Please.’

  Pru nodded. ‘I’m going. But if you change your mind, Megan, or you need anything at all, then I’m in Curzon Street – Plum Patisserie, you can’t m
iss it.’

  Megan turned away and carried on walking, without giving an answer or looking back.

  Pru re-joined the mourners as they were about to make their way back to Mountfield. Milly saw her across the path and grabbed her arm. ‘Where have you been? I was worried sick! Are you all right?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She spoke the truth.

  ‘We won’t stay long, just show our faces and then go home, okay?’ Milly spoke to her as if she was a child.

  Pru nodded. ‘I saw that girl, the one from the hospital. Megan.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Just now, she was here. She said she was William’s fiancée.’ Pru smoothed the creases from the sleeves of her navy jacket and ran her hand over her face, trying to remain composed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s telling the truth, Mills. She’s devastated. And she didn’t know about Bob.’ Pru let her tears fall, wondering if she would ever run out.

  Piers Parkinson-Boater walked over to them with an older soldier by his side. He adjusted his hat as he approached. ‘Miss Plum, I am so very sorry. I was fond of Bobby, I can only picture her laughing or jumping up and down.’ He smiled. ‘And William was a great bloke and an inspirational soldier.’

  The older man stepped forward. ‘I’m Sergeant Rob Gisby. William certainly was an inspirational soldier.’ He smiled too; his eyes were kind, and red from crying.

  Pru nodded at the two men. She couldn’t speak for William’s soldiering credentials, but as for being a great bloke, the presence of a second, pregnant, fiancée cast something of a shadow over that assertion. ‘Thank you.’

  Both women accepted their handshakes before they walked away.

  ‘What do you make of it all, Pru? Who the hell is she?’

  ‘I don’t really know. We don’t know anything, do we? Apart from her name’s Megan and she said she was his fiancée, and she’s pregnant.’

  ‘Christ alive, I can’t even think about it. Poor Bobby.’

  ‘Poor everyone. She looked like an unfortunate little thing, you know, Mills. Reminded me of us when we were younger. It bothered me that she was on her own.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t bother me! I think it’s a bloody disgrace, coming here on the day we lay them to rest, causing trouble.’ Milly folded her arms indignantly.

  ‘She wasn’t really causing trouble. I don’t think she wanted to be seen.’

  ‘I don’t want to speak ill of the dead,’ Milly said through gritted teeth, ‘and I was fond of Billy-boy. But if she was his fiancée and he’s left her pregnant… If he did do that to Bobby, it’s a good job he isn’t around, cos I’d bloody kill ’im!’

  ‘You can’t talk like that, Mills.’

  ‘I know, but I’m angry. What was he playing at?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just can’t make it out. If he was seeing both of them, then how the hell did he see that working out? That baby would have been about one when he was due to marry Bob! And if he wasn’t involved with Megan, then who the bloody hell is she? I don’t understand it, any of it.’

  The two cousins walked arm in arm to the waiting car. As the limo swept them up the drive of William’s family home, Pru grimaced. ‘God, why so many people?’ She couldn’t stomach the party-like atmosphere in and around the house, the flash cars abandoned on the gravel, the sumptuous spread, the jewellery and high heels. Did they not know that her beautiful girl was dead?

  There was the chink of bottle against glass as wine was poured. The hum of conversation hovered like a low cloud in the room.

  ‘I don’t want to be here,’ Pru mumbled from the side of her mouth.

  Milly stood in front of her. ‘It’s what you have to do, darling.’

  Pru stared defiantly at her cousin. ‘It is not what I have to do at all.’ And with that she went upstairs and locked herself in the en-suite bathroom of the guest room she’d stayed in. Her own private space.

  Pru had always loved the privacy and sparkle of a clean and beautiful bathroom. Even as teenagers, she and Milly had had to endure the weekly embarrassment of sitting in the tin bath in the front room of their little house in Bow. The water was always unpleasantly tepid and there was a distinct lack of privacy. Family members would traipse in and out with eyes averted. She would clamber out with pruney fingers and toes, and would then stand shivering in front of the fire, trying to get dry with a scratchy, worn towel. Worst of all though had been having to use the same water as the rest of the family, lowering herself into the carbolic-scented soap scum of the previous occupant. She had hated the way the grey bubbles, bloated with someone else’s sweat, dirt and odour, clung to her skin.

  When Pru and Milly first saw the bathroom at Kenway Road, they thought they had died and gone to heaven. The room was tiled in the palest pink and it sparkled so you hardly noticed the cracked sink or the stained ceiling. The tub was enormous, cast iron with a roll top, and it sat on very ornate clawed feet. The pretty cream-painted corner cupboard was crammed with Chanel No. 19 talcum powder, Sunsilk shampoo and bottles of garish red nail polish – goodies that had been in short supply in Bow. Pru had grinned at Milly. The first part of their plan was coming true: they would never be dirty or poorly dressed again.

  Now Pru lay with her face against the cool terrazzo tiles of the Mountfield guest bathroom, listening to the murmur of conversation that crept up through the joists. Once or twice she heard the high-pitched trill of female laughter – how dare someone be laughing, laughing today, laughing at all.

  ‘Who are you, Megan? What’s going on?’ she whispered, her eyes closed. ‘Oh, Bobby, what a mess.’

  She pictured the enormous bath she had run for Bobby on her first night at Curzon Street, all those years ago. Filled to the brim with bubbles.

  ‘I ain’t getting in your bath and I ain’t staying here,’ Bobby had shouted from the corner of her bedroom. ‘I hate you!’

  Pru had noted the untouched tray of food on the bed. ‘Well, it’s okay to hate me, but you still need to have a bath and it’s far nicer to get in it when it’s hot than when it’s gone cold, so come on, chop chop!’

  Reluctantly, Bobby had unfurled her legs and crawled from the corner on all fours. Scuttling like a beetle, she made her way across the bedroom, along the hall and into the bathroom, where she kicked the door shut behind her. Truth was, the child smelled of urine, dirt and fear-laden sweat. Pru listened at the door as Bobby’s small frame plopped into the suds. She crouched down outside and heard the sound of splashing and crying. A short while later, Bobby emerged, wrapped in a large cream towel that swamped her as she scurried across the hallway and back into the bedroom, where she again kicked the door shut. Pru gathered her grubby clothes from the floor and pulled the plug, gasping at the ring of black grime that clung to the edge of the bathtub. This became their ritual, with Pru leaving clean, warm pyjamas on Bobby’s bed for her to change into after her splash about. But it took another four weeks before the ice truly began to crack. One evening, clean and dry and dressed in her pyjamas, Bobby had appeared in the sitting room, popping up like a rare flower that no one had expected to bloom. Kicking her little bare feet against the edge of the sofa, she had folded her arms across her chest. ‘I still hate you and I’m not staying here, but I’d like some of that cheese on toast.’ Pru had had to stop herself from jumping for joy as she strolled nonchalantly into the kitchen to cut two thick slices of white bread.

  Images of Bobby at all different ages, in all different pyjamas, flooded Pru’s brain as she lay motionless on the cool Mountfield floor, she had loved those times, Bobby ready for bed, in the place she called home. An hour passed, then came a dull tapping at the door. Pru raised her head and glanced around the room, realising quickly that there was nowhere that she could hide.

  ‘Pru?’ It was Christopher. ‘Can I come in?’

  Her heart gave its familiar lift at the sound of his voice, even today. Slowly she rose from the floor on unsteady legs and slid the bolt before sinking back to the floor w
ith her knees up and her back against the wall.

  Christopher crept round the door and slid down to join her, sitting against the door on the cold floor. ‘I thought you might like some company.’

  Pru sidled across the tiles and placed her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair and whispering ‘Sshhhhh…’ as though he could bring her some peace.

  ‘I can’t think straight, Chris,’ she mumbled into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the scent of him. ‘I don’t want to be awake. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.’

  ‘You don’t have to do anything. You just have to take it minute by minute, hour by hour. You don’t have to make any plans or think ahead, just get through every bit of the day and see where it takes you.’ He sounded wise, calm and it helped.

  ‘I loved her so much. I couldn’t have loved her any more had I given birth to her. I keep thinking she is going to walk in or phone me, but she isn’t, is she?’

  ‘No, she isn’t.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. I want to speak to her one more time. I don’t understand what happened. I just want five minutes, one minute. I can’t believe I’m not going to see her, ever. It just won’t sink in.’

  ‘That’s quite normal, Pru, but that shock fades, I promise you. It becomes easier to live with, even though you don’t think it ever will, not when it’s so new and raw.’

  ‘I keep thinking that I should have made her get a cab, told her not to use the car that night. If only I’d intervened, I could have stopped it. But I didn’t, I didn’t know I had to.’

  ‘We all think that. Why didn’t I speak to William that day, keep him on the phone? Or say goodbye properly, tell him I was proud of him.’

  Pru closed her eyes and tried to remember the last time she’d told Bobby how proud she was of her. Had she known that?

  Christopher continued. ‘I’ve asked myself for years, why didn’t I make Ginny go to the doctor’s when she first complained of being tired, instead of telling her to have a nap, that it would make her feel better. I should have encouraged her and yet she didn’t go for another three months – three months! It might have made a difference.’