Wartime Brides

by Lizzie Lane

  Polly pushed open the door of The Swan With Two Necks, a small pub not far from Old Market. The smell of cigarette ash and stale beer spewed out to meet her. Once she’d coped with the sting of the smoke, she got her bearings and looked for Mavis. For old times’ sake, Mavis had said when she’d seen her at the corner of York Street. But Polly knew it had to be more than that. What sort of trouble had she got herself into?

  Once she could focus, she saw Mavis waving. She was sitting at a tripod table, the top of which was held in place with cast-iron Britannias at the top of each leg.

  ‘I got you a half of bitter,’ said Mavis indicating the brimming glass already on the table. ‘Me purse don’t run to a port and lemon.’

  Polly grimaced. ‘It’ll do I suppose.’ She looked around her. ‘What did you want to see me about?’

  Mavis grinned and nodded. ‘It wasn’t me that wanted to see you. It was ’im.’ She nodded towards a table in the corner.

  Polly recognised Billy Hills. ‘What does he want?’

  Mavis stared at her. ‘My, but ain’t you the posh one. Can see you spend more time in Clifton than you do round ’ere.’

  ‘Do you blame me?’ said Polly as she got up from the chair. ‘Who wants to stay around this dump?’

  Mavis raised her eyebrows. ‘Charmed I’m sure, but I ain’t toffee nosed. I know my place.’

  But Polly wasn’t interested. She wished she hadn’t come and had never expected to feel such an outsider as she did.

  Billy stood up politely when she got to the table and pulled out a chair for her. Polly regarded him with undisguised contempt. What did he have to offer compared to a doctor with a private practice in Clifton? After all, he did fancy her, didn’t he? This was what it was all about?

  ‘I told ’er to get you a port and lemon,’ said Billy, noticing the half of bitter she’d brought with her.

  ‘She reckoned she didn’t have the money.’

  ‘Cheeky cow! She kept the change.’

  He half got up and looked over to where Mavis had been sitting. Only an empty chair and an equally empty glass remained.

  ‘No matter.’ He turned back to her, his fingers tangling nervously together on the table.

  Polly cocked her head, remained mute and waited for him to speak. What did the little squirt want?

  Nervously he swigged at his beer. ‘I met your brother-in-law, Bert, the other day. Asked if I was interested in some fags he’d got from a docker he knows.’

  Polly went cold. Up until now she’d regarded herself as superior to the likes of Billy Hills. It was easy to be contemptuous of someone when you knew a bit about them. But when they knew a bit about you, well, that was different. But she stayed calm. ‘So?’

  ‘Well, ’e told me about the house being so crowded and you having a kid an’ all an’ bein’ short of money …’

  ‘I don’t do favours!’

  He looked visibly shaken. ‘I didn’t think you did. I weren’t finking of anything like that, honest!’

  Polly pursed her lips. She didn’t want to be here. She never wanted to be in this neck of the woods again, and when she got hold of Bertie …

  ‘It’s just that …’ Billy paused, looked up at her from under his bushy eyebrows then looked bashfully away. ‘Well, I’m all alone an’ I’ve got this house me old man left me. Used to be in scrap metal ’e did. Would have made a killing now, wouldn’t ’e, with all they old tanks and stuff not wanted any more.’

  Polly was getting impatient. ‘What about this house?’

  Billy licked the dryness from his lips. ‘It’s like this, it’s a big house, too big for me. I need a housekeeper.’

  ‘Now look here!’ said Polly starting to rise, heads turning in their direction.

  ‘No! No!’ said Billy, his hand grabbing hers. ‘It’s not like that. It’s all above board. Honest it is.’

  Polly snatched her hand away. ‘Oh, is it now?’

  ‘I just want someone to look after the place, that an’ provide a bit of company for me mother.’

  ‘Your mother! What do you bloody take me for?’

  Billy shook his head. ‘Look. It’s a big place, so if you’re interested …’ He searched her face for a reaction.

  Polly’s expression didn’t alter. Billy looked away. ‘Sorry I asked. I just thought …’

  Polly sprang to her feet. ‘Well you thought wrong. I’m not a bloody housekeeper! Nor a damned skivvy! I’m a receptionist up in Clifton. That’s what I am!’

  She started to make for the door. Billy grabbed hold of her arm. ‘If you want to think it over …’

  Polly shook him off. It did occur to her to shout at him that he was nothing better than a pimp. The bar was crowded and it would have satisfied her ego no end. But as she turned to do that a sudden thought entered her head.

  What if Meg insisted on her leaving before she was ready? What if she needed somewhere to live at some time? So she buttoned her lip and left the door swinging behind her between the fresh air and the fug within.

  *

  It was Saturday evening and there was smoked haddock for tea.

  ‘Charlotte’s going on holiday,’ Edna said to Colin as she sliced bread from a dull grey loaf and spread butter sparingly.

  ‘Thought she’d have took us with her,’ said Colin jokingly. ‘Blimey, what a let down! Where’s she going?’

  ‘Devon. They’ve got a cottage there.’

  ‘I bet. Probably more like a mansion.’

  Edna had already thought out what she was going to say. ‘I’ll be taking the clothes out to the orphanage while she’s away. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’ he said at the same time as picking up the evening paper.

  ‘No. Of course not.’

  ‘Well, there we are,’ he retorted with a laugh. ‘I’m already a henpecked husband.’

  Edna kissed him on the top of his head. He wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her close. ‘Now what was that for?’

  ‘Because you’re nice and Charlotte’s nice.’

  ‘Can’t say the same for her old man,’ said Colin. ‘Not that I’ve ever met him but I have seen the bruises on her neck.’

  ‘Of course you’ve met him. He was at our wedding. Remember?’

  Colin let the paper drop to the floor. ‘Oh yes. The one drooling over brassy Polly.’

  ‘Colin! She’s not brassy.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not now she isn’t. Wonder why?’

  Edna blushed and turned away. During the next few weeks she intended broaching the subject of Sherman though quite how to do it she wasn’t yet sure. But would Colin then think she was as common as Polly? She didn’t like secrets yet they seemed to be piling up. David and Polly’s intimate embrace was still clear in her mind. Would it be fair to tell Charlotte about it or fairer not to? It was a difficult decision and one she’d have to sleep on.

  She was waiting for the bus to take her to the orphanage when Billy Hills drew up in his van.

  ‘Wanna lift?’

  She told him where she was going. It was a few miles further than he’d thought but he still insisted she hop in complete with her bundles and bags.

  ‘It’s a nice day for driving anyway,’ he said, ‘and everything’s going my way.’

  He whistled as he drove and Edna couldn’t help wondering if he’d got anywhere with Polly. It was easy to see he was sweet on her. She made a point of asking him.

  He smiled secretively and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Could be but then there’s Betty. I said, ’ow would you like to move in with me and be me sweetheart, and Betty said …’

  Edna’s mouth dropped open. ‘Betty who?’

  ‘Grable of course!’

  ‘Oh Billy.’

  He leaned closer. ‘There’s something good in the pipeline for us all. I’ll be up to talk to Colin about it before very long. An’ you make sure you’re there. It’ll excite you. I know it will.’

  The words flew over her head.
As they pulled into the drive that led up to the front of the orphanage, Edna’s eyes fixed on the door. Beyond that was her baby. He was in her mind more and more nowadays and it was affecting her work. Although Mr Gordon was behaving himself following a quiet word from someone higher up, he had pulled her aside to mention that she was making far too many mistakes. If she didn’t smarten up he’d have to give her a written warning. She had promised to do better but it wasn’t easy to forget your own flesh and blood.

  The pristine corridor of the orphanage echoed to her footsteps. Sherman was ahead of her. Sherman would be glad to see her, his little mouth smiling and his eyes bright with excitement.

  ‘Miss Burbage!’

  Edna stopped and turned to face the wide bosom and small stature of Matron.

  Matron nodded a greeting. ‘Could you come into my office for a moment?’

  Edna followed her in, the bags of clothes and other things bumping against her legs.

  Matron closed the door behind her and bade her sit down. She herself sat in the chair behind a light oak desk. A dark blue blind was pulled halfway down the window behind her, making her vaguely resemble an overweight Madonna.

  ‘Before I say anything else, Miss Burbage, I have to tell you that your secret is safe with me.’

  Edna put down her bags and stared wide-eyed at the woman across from her.

  ‘I recognised your name,’ Matron went on. ‘Even if I hadn’t, I would have known Sherman was your son the way you held on to him.’

  Edna stiffened. ‘Does this mean you’ll stop me seeing him?’

  Matron looked thoughtfully at her hands. ‘No. But you do realise that all these babies are available for adoption.’ Of course she knew! Fear squeezing her insides, Edna leaned forward, her fingers gripping the desk edge for support. ‘But surely the white babies go first?’

  Matron nodded. ‘That’s true. But Sherman isn’t too dark. His day may come. Then what are you going to do?’

  Edna shook with desperation. Adoption! She knew it was likely but had ignored it up until now.

  ‘Until he does get adopted you can continue to see him. But I felt I had to point this out to you. It is likely that someone may offer and, remember, you did give your baby up for adoption shortly after he was born.’

  Edna shook her head emphatically. ‘No! No! I didn’t. My mother made me do it. I didn’t want to have him adopted!’

  Matron sat back in her chair and shook her head sadly. ‘You and a thousand others. Adolf Hitler has a lot to answer for.’

  ‘His father wouldn’t want it either!’

  ‘How do you know that?’ said Matron, then stopped. ‘Ah! The parcels! I believe your mother knows Mrs Grey who works for Mrs Hennessey-White.’

  Edna remembered her mother mentioning a partner with whom she played whist named Mrs Grey. But the parcels themselves were no longer important. All that counted was her son. ‘Does he have to be adopted?’ she asked.

  The homely woman wearing the dark blue uniform and the crisp white apron came round and put her arm around her shoulder. ‘That, my dear, is up to you. Is there any chance of you having him at home?’

  ‘I’ve just got married.’

  ‘And your husband doesn’t know about him.’

  Edna blew into her handkerchief and fixed her gaze on the floor.

  He was awake when she went to see him.

  ‘He’s only just woken up,’ said Sister Ruth. ‘He must have known you were coming.’

  Edna nodded through her tears and looked down at him. ‘Sherman,’ she said, softly reaching down and holding the downy soft hand in hers. ‘I’m not very brave, and whatever happens you must believe it’s for the best. Honestly it is.’

  Although she tried to appear composed when she got back to Billy’s old black van, he immediately saw her tearstained face. ‘What’s the matter? Someone upset you?’

  ‘It’s all those babies,’ sniffed Edna. ‘All alone in the world and no one to care.’

  Embarrassed by sentiment even though he was pretty much that way himself, Billy drove silently. When he did speak it was merely to remark on the bomb damage or to enthuse about what the city would look like in the future. But for the present it vaguely resembled the surface of another planet, the sort he’d seen pre-war in a film like Flash Gordon.

  While he drove, Edna took the opportunity to tidy her face. ‘You won’t tell Colin I was upset, will you?’ she asked in a small voice.

  Billy shook his head. ‘Not if you don’t want me to. Any time you want a lift, just say the word. You know where to find me. Flogging from the back of the van, Bedminster first three days of the week, end of the week and weekends I’m down in the Centre.’

  She thanked him and got out of the van. ‘Would you like to come in for tea?’

  Billy eased himself out of his seat and still looked neat and tidy despite having been driving a while. ‘Better come in and explain I gave you a lift,’ he said with a grin. ‘Wouldn’t want old Colin thinking we were up to something, would we!’

  Edna laughed. ‘Colin isn’t like that.’ They went inside the house.

  Polly liked watching David drive. There was something sensual about the way his finely manicured hands handled the wheel and his thighs moved as he pressed the pedals. The scarf that Edna had left behind at the consulting rooms lay folded neatly on her lap but slid to the floor. ‘You don’t think she came back for it and saw us, do you? Only I thought I heard something?’

  David shrugged. ‘What could she say even if she did? If she does betray us, I can make things pretty difficult for her. She wouldn’t want to lose her job. I think, from what I’ve seen of her, she is more sensible than that.’

  His attitude made her feel uncomfortable. She told herself that all posh blokes were like that, but deep down she was questioning whether she really wanted to be with him. Aaron was someone she’d fallen in love with. There’d been strong physical attractions with the men she’d known before him including the father of her child. She felt none towards David. And then of course there was Billy to consider. Whether she cared to show it or not, she liked him. Although she was having trouble admitting it to herself, the idea of taking revenge on Charlotte by taking David was not as attractive as it had been. Sometime soon she would call a halt to the whole ugly situation.

  ‘This turning,’ said Polly a few yards before Kent Street.

  He turned the wheel.

  ‘And this house.’

  He stopped the car outside Edna’s house in Kent Street. She had the urge to remark how small the house was, but who was she to make comment? A cobbled street of flat-fronted houses just off Midland Road was her real home, full of children and relatives she wished she didn’t have.

  She got out first and knocked firmly on the door. David followed. She was sure a few net curtains twitched as they stood there. In York Street she would have pulled faces and made rude signs for their benefit. But she was here with David and guessed that neighbours were admiring the car and the posh couple that had stepped out of it.

  Polly smiled up at David and adjusted his tie. ‘It’s not straight,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not a child!’ he said testily, and smacked at her hands.

  Edna’s mouth dropped when she opened the door. The sound of a machine, the smell of shaved wood and flying sawdust came out to meet them.

  ‘Here’s your scarf,’ said Polly.

  Edna coloured up.

  She knows, thought Polly. She was confident of Edna’s silence. Edna needed her job.

  Cocky as ever, Polly placed her hands on her hips and waited for an invite. Edna continued to stand there with her mouth open so Polly said it for her. ‘Well, are you going to leave us waiting on the doorstep? A cup of tea would be nice, Edna.’

  Colin was sat at a lathe, an oddly shaped piece of wood in his hands. He stopped, looked up as they entered and swung his chair round to face them.

  ‘Oh! We’ve got visitors.’

  ‘You remember Polly!’ sa
id Edna. ‘She works for Doctor Hennessey-White – David – Charlotte’s husband.’

  Polly winced at Edna reminding her that David and the lifestyle he represented belonged to Charlotte.

  ‘I’ll make tea,’ blurted Edna.

  Colin blinked and, for a moment, Polly was convinced that he knew everything, was going to shout it out and show them the door. She’d forgotten how amiable he could be. ‘You girls do that. I’ll explain the ins and outs of toy making to the …’ he paused, ‘doctor here.’

  ‘I’ll help,’ said Polly and threw Colin an angry look. He’d been about to say ‘the good doctor’ as people did, but had scowled and done otherwise.

  Rather than suffer an uncomfortable atmosphere, she followed Edna into the kitchen. Old-fashioned as it was, its cosy warmth surprised her. The range was black and ugly, but its glowing coals seemed to give it life. An old dresser had been painted cream and was now festooned with crockery, mostly blue and cream-striped Cornish. The gaps were filled with old willow patterned meat platters.

  Bloody hell, they must have belonged to Queen Victoria. I’d put them in the dustbin, thought Polly to herself, but didn’t remark. Instead she turned to Edna and smiled cordially.

  She looked Edna up and down as she bustled round her kitchen, a slim figure in a green woollen dress that she must have had for years. With an air of self-satisfaction she adjusted her collar and tightened her belt and said, ‘You certainly are a capable little housewife.’

  ‘I do my best. We haven’t got much but it suits us fine. We haven’t even used the rooms upstairs, what with Colin.’

  Polly pretended not to notice that she was referring to the fact that Colin couldn’t get upstairs unaided or, at least, not without difficulty.

  ‘Well, that could work out OK. How many rooms are up there?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Two children at least then! Four if you double them up. Six if you triple! You look just the sort to suit babies. Ever had one, have you?’

  A teacup smashed to the floor. Edna’s face had been pink enough before. Now it was a much deeper colour. ‘No!’ she growled as she reached for a handle of the dresser cupboard.

  I’ve hit a raw nerve, thought Polly, and although she would never ask outright, she wondered exactly how they managed in bed. She shivered the thought away. It wasn’t her problem, thank God! Instead she looked down on Edna busily brushing the remains of the cup into the dustpan.