Wartime Brides

by Lizzie Lane

  He thought about it for a moment, then smiled and nodded.

  She watched him walk to the bar, unable to take her eyes off him.

  He came back with the drinks. ‘How did you know I’d be here on a Sunday night?’

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t.’ She felt herself blushing.

  ‘We all need to get away some time. I’d certainly like to! But …’ He laughed and shrugged helplessly. She laughed with him.

  Their conversation consisted of questions about each other’s lives – small things really; childhood, favourite things, hopes for the future, all the things that matter as two people get to know each other better.

  He also told her about being a submariner, the close confinement of life in a metal can lurking beneath the waves, watching for enemy merchant ships. She found it hard to equate this man with that life.

  He seemed more at ease than when she’d last seen him. She wondered what had been troubling him and asked him outright.

  He looked swiftly away. ‘Nothing I can do anything about.’

  She didn’t push the point but sensed intuitively that it had something to do with Aaron.

  Time seemed to fly.

  ‘Another drink, Charlotte?’

  The way he said her name sent a thrill down her spine. David used to make her feel like that in the days before the war. Now he only scared her. The fear of what he might say if he found out she’d been drinking with another man, and an enemy at that, made her spring suddenly to her feet.

  ‘I’d better be going.’ She made for the door.

  Josef returned the glasses quickly to the bar then followed her out. ‘You can’t escape them,’ he said once they were outside.

  She stopped by the car, a thudding in her head. ‘Escape what?’ The blush on her cheeks seemed to spread over her body.

  He came closer and ran his hand up and down her arm. ‘Your emotions.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I’m married, Josef.’

  ‘But not happy.’

  ‘He’s just got back from the war. It takes time to readjust.’

  Josef sighed. He hung his head mournfully and leaned against the car. ‘If ever. Everything that has happened to us is now part of us. It wasn’t just buildings that got knocked down.’

  ‘There’s a lot of rebuilding to do,’ said Charlotte resolutely, refusing to acknowledge that he was referring to people’s lives.

  ‘Charlotte,’ he said, taking her face in his hands. ‘For the rest of our lives we will reap what those terrible years have sown. Do not expect things to return to what they were. They won’t. Not ever.’

  She braced herself, sure he was going to kiss her. But instead he sighed and leaned back against the car, a melancholy figure who suddenly looked smaller than he actually was.

  The old Charlotte, the one who had taken on the troubles of her school friends, now took over.

  ‘This won’t do! We should be feeling glad to be alive. It’s almost spring. I could see it everywhere as I came across the common. I can show you if you like.’

  ‘It’s too dark.’

  ‘Then you can smell it,’ she said in the sort of voice she’d used when she was head girl and out to boost morale. ‘I insist.’ She unlocked the car door. The journey proved silently expectant.

  There was a moon hanging low over the common, the grass touched silver by its magic glow.

  They opened the windows. Charlotte still encouraged. ‘Breathe it in.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘It does smell of spring and we should be grateful for all the precious moments yet to come.’

  She took another deep breath before she realised that he was looking at her as he said it and not at the view. She would never recall the exact way it happened but the next moment she was in his arms. His kiss was gentle yet full of passion. His arms were strong and her nipples hardened as he clasped her tightly to his chest. Yet she felt no shame at such a physical reaction. She wanted him.

  His voice was low against her ear. ‘Charlotte, you give too much of yourself and your advice to everyone else and keep none for yourself. Stop living other people’s lives and start living your own.’

  His words struck a deep chord within. Suddenly she didn’t care about being married, about David and what he wanted. All that mattered was feeling safe and having a moment for herself.

  Time flew. By the time she’d dropped him back at the camp it was ten-thirty. By the time she got home it would be gone midnight. Not that it worried her. There was no blackout any more. Lights twinkled from isolated cottages in the countryside around her and from the city that sprawled like a sequinned counterpane at the bottom of the hill. It was as if the world had awoken from a deep sleep.

  She hummed to herself most of the way and manoeuvred her way through the Horsefair, where little remained of what used to be. There was talk of a new shopping centre where the old one had been. Huge stores would replace the select dressmakers, tailors, haberdashers and tobacconists, or so she’d heard. Sad really. There had been much pleasure in such variety.

  Her elation abated the minute she turned into Royal York Crescent. It had all but disappeared once she’d parked the car and approached the front door.

  The shadow of the house she had once loved fell over her like a black cloak. There were no lights burning. Neither Mrs Grey nor Polly was needed because David was away at his BMA meeting. She sighed, grateful she didn’t have to face him. She was alone; at least she thought she was.

  A movement, something in the shadows beneath the portico where the moon did not shine, caught her eye. The movement became a figure. Charlotte paused, heart thudding, mouth open.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  The figure moved forward.

  ‘Mother?’

  She couldn’t believe it. ‘Janet! What are you doing here?’

  Janet sounded close to tears. ‘Where have you been, mother? I’ve been waiting for you. I needed you.’

  Charlotte threw her arms around her daughter. ‘Oh Janet! If I’d known …’ Her words trailed off. Thinking of where she had been and with whom made her feel guilty.

  ‘Come inside, dear.’ With one arm around her shoulder, she guided her daughter into the house.

  They settled in the warmth of the kitchen, with large cups of cocoa. Charlotte ignored the fact that sugar was still scarce and ladled two spoonfuls into each cup.

  Janet told her in no uncertain terms how awful school was and how she had no intention of returning. ‘You have to tell daddy not to send me back, mummy. You have to!’

  Tell daddy. It sounded so easy. It probably was to a child. Shoulder a trusted adult with the responsibility and things would be sorted out. If only it were so!

  Charlotte stared into her cocoa, feeling guilty. Tonight had been too good to be true. Janet’s homecoming had brought her back to earth with a bang.

  Mrs Grey decided to come in on Monday morning so by rights Polly should have been acting as assistant receptionist at the surgery. But Dr Hennessey-White wouldn’t be back until Tuesday and there were no appointments to deal with except over the phone. The truth was she hated paperwork and Marjorie, who’d styled herself chief receptionist, seemed to find her plenty of filing to do.

  Despite Marjorie’s protests, Polly excused herself and made the short walk from Clifton Park to Royal York Crescent. She had a job to do.

  Mrs Grey was standing at the kitchen door when she arrived. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘None of your bloody business!’ Polly retorted as she flounced on through, her usual smart self in a black suit updated by Aunty Meg who had sewed on white collar and cuffs.

  She tried the drawing room first. No one. But she halted a moment to take in the tasteful colours of pistachio green, pale pink and dark beige. It was the sort of colour scheme she would have chosen if only she was getting married and setting up a home of her own.

  The softness of the colours did nothing to quench her anger. The feeling of having been robbed of
a future was like a fire within her that flickered then raged as each perceived slight was thrown on to it.

  She swept on down the hall. The door to the study was closed but she heard voices. Without knocking she barged in.

  Charlotte was standing in front of the window, an elegant picture in a yellow twinset and a fitted grey skirt that matched her eyes.

  Polly gritted her teeth. So perfect! Well, she’d soon fix that!

  ‘I want to talk to you!’

  Charlotte looked at her daughter before looking back at Polly.

  She looks a wreck, thought Polly, spotting the dark lines beneath Charlotte’s eyes. But she felt no pity. What’s she got to be wrecked about? And what’s the brat doing at home?

  ‘I want to talk to you now! In private!’

  She purposefully threw Janet a dismissive look.

  Charlotte took her cue. ‘Wait outside a moment, Janet. We’ll continue our talk later.’

  Both women watched as Janet walked out of the room and shut the door behind her.

  ‘My daughter’s unhappy,’ said Charlotte in a wistful voice.

  Polly swung round immediately, her eyes blazing. ‘She isn’t the only bloody one!’ She took a step forward. ‘Now let’s get this straight, Mrs bloody Hennessey-White, you and nobody like you has got any rights interfering in my life.’

  Charlotte frowned and took a step back. It pleased Polly to see her do it. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Polly, liking the feeling of power she’d suddenly discovered, took another step towards her. ‘YOU!’ she said, pointing her finger full into Charlotte’s face, ‘made sure that me and Aaron never got permission to marry. YOU got him shipped back to America!’

  Charlotte blinked in surprise. ‘What?’

  ‘You ’eard! Me and Aaron Grant were going to get married. He might not have said so, but I knows we were. It was understood. Then you interfered.’

  Charlotte slumped onto a chair. ‘You’ve got it wrong! Aaron told me he wanted to get married and I went along to see his commanding officer. I’m sorry, Polly. I was only trying to help.’

  ‘You lying cow!’ said a scowling Polly, her finger still wagging in Charlotte’s face. ‘Just do me a favour, missus. Don’t do me any favours. I don’t know what the bloody ’ell you said to ’im but you’ve gone and bloody ruined my life!’

  As the words echoed around the room Polly stormed out, her fists tightly clenched, her jaw aching.

  It was enough that Charlotte had slumped into a chair with a shocked expression on her face. It was enough that Polly had stated exactly how she felt. But if Charlotte thought that was the end of it then she was very much mistaken. Polly wanted revenge. If Charlotte had denied her a better future overseas, then she would find a man in this country who could give her what she wanted, no holds barred!

  *

  Edna and Colin told no one about the house Billy Hills had offered to rent them in Kent Street. It was small and had a shop front, which meant stepping straight out into the street, but there was an extra room downstairs which they could turn into a bedroom.

  ‘Easy for getting the chariot in and out,’ Colin said when they first took a look.

  ‘I’m glad it suits you,’ Edna replied.

  ‘I meant the pram for the kids,’ he said lightly. ‘Them two bedrooms upstairs are going to get pretty full pretty damn quick, you know.’

  Edna smiled bashfully and felt a warm blush seeping over her face. Time was running out and she had to go ahead with the wedding. Backing out now would break a lot of hearts. And still she hadn’t managed to get out to see Sherman.

  ‘I’ll have my workbench here, my jig here, and my stock of wood just there,’ Colin said, rolling his chair around the room as he pointed out each position. ‘And there’s plenty more room for wood out the back. No, I can’t see any drawback, can you, my love?’

  My love! The words sounded different coming from Colin than from anyone else. It was a typical Bristolian form of address. But from him it sounded special.

  They fell silent, each thinking the same thoughts. Colin spoke first.

  ‘So, when do we tell the dragon?’

  ‘She thinks we’re going to move in with her.’

  ‘Like hell we are.’

  ‘She’ll be upset.’

  ‘I don’t care. It’s my wedding, my marriage, and you’ll be my wife. The fact that I get her as a mother-in-law is a cross I have to bear. Bloody big one though, innit?’

  Edna laughed and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the back of the head. His funny moments obliterated any second thoughts. She loved him then. It was hard not to.

  Thoughtfully she rubbed her cheek against his. ‘What if we were to go on honeymoon – and not come back?’

  ‘Edna. Even though Billy Hills is flogging every toy he possibly can from the back of his old van, our money don’t stretch to a honeymoon, unless you fancy a day trip to Weston.’

  ‘But we don’t have to tell her that. We can tell her we’re going for the week, that Billy’s really come up trumps. And in the meantime we’ll furnish the house and get it just as we want it. Billy will help. I know he will.’

  She looked down into his eyes. Weston-Super-Mare for a day then a home of their own. ‘What do you think?’

  A slow smile crossed his face. ‘I think she’ll steam right up and burst like an old kettle when she finds out.’

  Behind Edna’s happy smile one nagging thought still remained. Somehow or other, despite the wedding, she had to contact Charlotte, start making the baby clothes, and find an opportunity to get to the orphanage. She would have to explain why but Charlotte was a person she felt she could trust.

  *

  How, she didn’t know, but somehow Charlotte managed to persuade Janet to go back to school. She drove her there, one eye on the speedometer and one on her watch. It was imperative she was back in time for dinner so that David never suspected that his daughter had absconded from school. Mrs Grey had been sworn to secrecy.

  Coming back she got caught in the tide of people coming out of the tobacco factories and wished instantly that she’d taken the other route over Clifton Suspension Bridge.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if the factory girls had stuck to the pavement, but there were so many of them, buddies arm in arm, that they spilled onto the road and took no notice whatsoever of bicycle bells or car horns.

  Edna was hurrying along, head down. So much seemed to happen before a wedding. Besides her mother fussing and fidgeting with all the things she thought her daughter should have, neighbours had handed small home-made presents to her. It was also a foregone conclusion that the girls in the office had collected and would either present her with a purse full of money or buy her something they thought she surely needed like towels or flannelette bedsheets.

  The main thing on her mind at the moment was the discussion she’d had with her mother last night regarding her wedding night.

  ‘Screaming would be best, or if you can’t manage that you can at least cry. The one thing you’ve got in your favour is that he’s not a complete man what with having no legs to steady himself with.’

  Edna’s mouth had dropped open. Her mother had said all this without showing the slightest embarrassment or emotion.

  It was a cruel and foolish thing to say. Edna could have cried then and there. Instead she’d stormed from the room, past her father who sat snoring with a newspaper over his head, a cold pipe by his side. He’d always been merely a shadow that drifted along behind her mother. Now she pitied him.

  A crowd of laughing girls from Woodbine production elbowed her off the pavement. As she stepped out into the road a car horn honked loudly. In response she skipped back on again, then realised someone was calling her name.

  ‘Edna!’

  She immediately recognised the voice and turned round.

  Charlotte was hanging out of the window. ‘Can I give you a lift?’

  Edna’s spirits lifted. This was ex
actly the person she wanted to see. ‘I’m glad I saw you,’ said Edna once they’d got the small talk about the weather out of the way. ‘There’s something I wanted to ask you. It’s about helping make the baby clothes.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t think you’d have time for that until after you’re married. You are giving up work, I take it?’ said Charlotte, sounding her horn indignantly at every fresh-faced young factory girl that stepped into her path.

  ‘I don’t know that I can afford to. Not yet. Not until Colin’s got established.’

  Charlotte gripped the steering wheel and glared angrily at the intransigent crowd. Edna had never seen her so tense before. Talking seemed to help; the more she talked the more her grip loosened.

  ‘I can bring some material and patterns for dresses and romper suits over to you. I leave it to your own common sense to use any feminine material for dresses and only cotton for romper suits. Boys will be boys even when they are babies! Get out of the way will you! Stupid girls!’ The last comments were directed at yet more factory girls who seemed to tumble out of the door like heaps of porridge oats.

  Edna smiled at the thought of baby boys acting tough. It was exceptionally piquant to imagine because her son was one of them.

  ‘I think I can manage.’

  Charlotte became thoughtful. The tyres squealed as a gap opened in the crowd and she urged the car forward. ‘I think it would be a very good idea if you came up to my house now and collected it. The material and patterns have all been divided into carrier bags so it won’t take a minute. Have you time?’

  ‘Yes,’ Edna replied and had the distinct impression that Charlotte visibly relaxed. Oh well, she thought, everyone has to have their off days.

  As they entered the hall of Charlotte’s house, David Hennessey-White strode purposefully out of the drawing room. Edna barged into the back of Charlotte as her friend stopped quickly in her tracks.

  ‘David!’

  Edna sensed her nervousness.

  Charlotte did her best to hide it. ‘You do remember Edna don’t you, darling. You remember her fiancé …’ She did not finish the sentence. She did not need to. Colin and the day at Temple Meads Railway Station were easily remembered. The tight expression David Hennessey-White had worn when he came out of the drawing room was replaced by a warm smile but there was a dead look in his eyes.