Wartime Brides

by Lizzie Lane

Just at that moment his drab little van hurtled into the street and pulled up with a sharp squeal of brakes.

  Polly rushed for the door.

  ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ she shouted, elbows angular and hands resting on hips.

  In his familiar way, Billy pushed his trilby to the back of his head.

  ‘Getting your present ready.’

  She almost fainted when he handed her a small cardboard box.

  For once she was lost for words. Without opening it she knew instinctively what it was likely to be and what it signified.

  If she hadn’t been staring at the box she would have looked up and seen Billy’s impatience. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

  She did just that.

  One single diamond sparkled in a ring of dark gold.

  Billy’s impatience and fear that she might have changed her mind got the better of him. ‘Do you like it?’

  Polly slipped it on her finger and admired it from a number of angles.

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Can we get married in April?’

  ‘Certainly not!’

  Billy’s face dropped.

  ‘June. All the best brides get married in June.’

  Billy grinned.

  Just then the sound of Meg’s footsteps echoed up the passageway behind her.

  ‘Where’s the bird?’ she asked, food on the table always having a higher priority than pretty jewellery.

  ‘Won’t be long,’ shouted Billy, rushing round to the driver’s side of his van. ‘I’ve just got an errand to run first. I’ve got to take Colin for a ride. I’ll bring the bird back with me. Promise!’

  ‘But what about cooking it?’ shouted Meg.

  It was too late. Billy was gone. Both women stared after him.

  ‘Where’s he going with Colin?’ asked Meg.

  Polly shrugged. ‘Have you got that corned beef handy?’

  David was strangely placid and there was a vacant look in his eyes.

  ‘It’s only the medication,’ Julian explained. ‘It calms him down until we know for certain that we can trust him.’

  Julian went back to his home and his own Christmas dinner although Charlotte had invited him to stay. Being alone with David was frightening. How was she to know how he’d behave or whether she could cope?

  They sat him in his favourite chair by the window. Despite his presence and the fact that his eyes followed her everywhere, Charlotte managed to keep her spirits up. This was a truly special day. She must not allow her husband or her fears to dampen her spirits.

  Edna stirred the gravy while Charlotte carved the turkey. She sliced the meat from one side only. Janet watched. Geoffrey was in the living room doing a puzzle with his father, who had hardly spoken but watched everything everyone else was doing. Geoffrey chatted incessantly.

  ‘Are we having the other half tomorrow?’ asked Janet as Charlotte began hacking the carcass down the middle.

  ‘It’s too much,’ Charlotte replied, but she didn’t explain that Billy was on his way to collect the unused half and that they had cooked up more than a meal together.

  The pendulum on the wall clock swung backwards and forwards with each even tick of its mechanism. Charlotte glanced at it far too often, expecting fifteen minutes to have flown and discovering that only five had passed.

  So far Edna had suspected nothing: besides, Charlotte’s nervousness could easily be put down to the fact that David was there.

  She began seating everyone, David to her left, Janet and Geoffrey at each end of the table. Edna sat opposite with a spare place to her left and a laid setting.

  ‘Who’s that for?’ Edna asked.

  ‘Father Christmas!’ Charlotte blurted. ‘Isn’t he supposed to call today? Must be hungry after delivering all those presents.’

  Geoffrey laughed. Edna smiled.

  Charlotte caught Janet’s puzzled, amused look. No, I’m not mad, she wanted to say. But it was as well that everyone might think that. Soon, all would be revealed.

  Wine was poured. Edna sipped it warily. Charlotte guessed she was not used to it at meal times, perhaps not at all.

  David studied his wife intently as she poured. It unnerved her. She wondered what was going through his mind. She had a great yearning to look into his eyes, hoping once again to see a sign of the man he used to be. But she dare not – not yet. Early days, Julian had said. Do not hope for miracles. So she refrained from looking and concentrated on pouring the wine.

  It occurred to her that she may have been unwise in agreeing to have him back for Christmas lunch, but then she looked at Geoffrey and decided she’d been right to do so. He was beaming at his father with undisguised admiration and talking nineteen to the dozen.

  Janet glanced warily at her father at regular intervals. All was calm. Silent night, holy night, thought Charlotte. Again she checked the wall clock ticking the time away. Billy would be here soon …

  One ten exactly and the doorbell rang.

  ‘Father Christmas,’ she said in answer to the enquiring looks.

  She got up quickly before anyone else could offer to go, her heart racing and her heels clattering over the quarry tiles of the hallway floor.

  ‘Hello there,’ Billy said brightly as she opened the door.

  She glanced questioningly over his shoulder.

  Billy’s voice was low. ‘He refuses any help. He’ll get out of the car himself and come to the door. I’ve said I’ll come on ahead and that you’re a potential customer, very eccentric, who insisted we have Christmas dinner with you before placing an order. Is the turkey ready?’

  ‘Yes. Wrapped up and ready for you to take back to Polly. She must be frantic.’

  ‘Livid,’ grinned Billy. ‘I told her I’d be back with something but she won’t expect it to be bloody cooked already!’

  Charlotte grinned, too, as he apologised for the language. ‘Never mind that. Follow me and close the door behind you.’

  Now it was his turn to look confused.

  ‘He’ll have to ring the bell,’ Charlotte explained.

  This was sheer subterfuge and she was thoroughly enjoying it. ‘Into the kitchen,’ she said and ushered Billy through the hall way, past the dining room door, which she had had the forethought to close, and into the kitchen. No one had seen them.

  On the way she poked her head around the dining room door without allowing anyone to see that Billy was behind her.

  ‘Will you answer the doorbell when it rings, Edna?’

  Edna nodded.

  Charlotte willed Janet not to offer to do it. It had to be Edna who answered the door.

  She stood in the kitchen with Billy, and handed him the half turkey, firmly wrapped in several layers of newspaper. They waited patiently.

  ‘Hurry up, Colin mate,’ urged Billy, his gazed fixed on the ceiling as if in prayer.

  It seemed like an eternity before the doorbell finally rang.

  Charlotte attempted to leave the kitchen, but Billy placed a warning hand on her arm. She counted to ten, glanced swiftly at Billy for approval, then left the kitchen first, Billy following behind her.

  Edna sat silently at the table, totally engrossed in her own thoughts. It was like being dead. She was sure of it. And she deserved to die for not standing up to anyone about keeping Sherman and for not telling Colin. Things happened to her and she tended to let them. Well, she wouldn’t do so any more.

  She still shivered each time she thought of the day that she had kept the appointment with Mr Lewis. She had marched full of happiness into Charlotte’s office only to find that Colin now knew her secret.

  Her heart had broken in two when he’d left with Billy, who had then come back to say she wouldn’t be welcome at the little house in Kent Street that they had striven together to make into a home and a business.

  Charlotte had apologised for having kept the letters. Edna had burnt them, unread, on the very day she’d come to stay with Charlotte. The past was gone. She had a future
to face. And Colin, too, must be faced. She missed him dreadfully and she was worried about him being ill. That was why she kept feeling sick and didn’t want anything to eat. At least, that’s what she told herself at first. Now she told herself that it was because they were living apart. But deep down she recognised the symptoms. Christmas Day and here she was sitting down with Charlotte’s family, including her husband who looked terribly tired and was obviously ill. Charlotte, she knew, wanted to make the effort to mend her marriage. It was going to be a difficult job and she admired her bravery. But Charlotte had a majestic sense of duty.

  It surprised Edna to hear the doorbell during the meal. She presumed that Father Christmas really was attending, that Charlotte had got someone to dress up for the sake of the children, although they did seem a little old for that sort of thing. When she heard it ring a second time she presumed he’d come in and gone out again. But she did as Charlotte had asked her and went to open the door.

  She said nothing when she saw who it was. It was Colin, but it wasn’t Colin. He was face to face with her, standing upright, his hands resting on two wooden sticks.

  Her legs felt weak. Her heart danced in her chest.

  A deafening silence persisted between them.

  She looked him up and down, unable to control the surprise that was obviously plain on her face. At last she said, ‘You’ve got legs!’

  At the uttering of those magic words he seemed to grow taller. ‘I was fitted for them a few weeks ago. I’ve been trying them out for a while. I’ll need the sticks for a while yet, but after that …’

  ‘You didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Seems like we’ve both been keeping secrets.’

  Edna blushed and looked down at the floor in the meek fashion she always adopted when she wanted to avoid confrontation. But she had to tell him how she felt and how much she had given up to be with him. Somehow she found the courage.

  ‘I love you, Colin. What happened was because of the war. I should have been brave enough to tell you earlier. Mother wouldn’t …’

  ‘I know.’

  She waved him into silence. ‘But I’ve made my own decisions since. My baby will have a good life with people who love him desperately. And I will have a good life with you and you with me – if you want me, Colin, if you still really want me.’

  He shrugged, then smiled weakly. ‘Someone thinks I must do.’

  She sensed his emotions were mixed. So were hers. She didn’t want to be rejected, but at the same time she badly wanted to throw her arms around his neck.

  Her throat felt dry, the words dried like dust. Be brave, said a small voice inside, and, before the weaker, more pliant side of her could counteract her intention, she threw her arms around her husband’s neck and rained kisses upon his cheeks. His sticks fell to the ground as he wrapped his arms around her, Edna partially taking the weight the sticks had taken.

  The sudden sound of a car engine made them both look out onto the crescent. Billy’s van was driving away.

  Colin panicked. ‘Where’s he going?’

  ‘Back to Polly with half a turkey. Come on in, Colin. Lunch is being served.’ Charlotte was standing by the open dining room door. She was smiling and her eyes were misty.

  Edna picked up Colin’s sticks while he leaned on her for temporary support. He took both sticks in one hand, his other clinging onto Edna’s.

  ‘I’m going to learn to drive a car,’ Edna blurted suddenly, for no other reason than it sounded incredibly brave.

  Colin, still walking stiffly towards the dining room, stared at her quizzically. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

  ‘Because Billy is going to marry Polly and won’t be around as much to deliver the toys. And besides, I’d prefer having a car to having a pram for the baby.’

  Just before they went into the dining room she told him she ached inside for the loss of Sherman and always would. But another child was on the way — his child — and she had no intention of giving this one up.

  Charlotte sighed with satisfaction as she sat down again at the dining table, aware that David was watching her. Once everyone was seated, they all watched as, with great patience, Edna helped her husband into a chair. He looked confused, hardly daring to take his eyes off Edna’s face.

  He knows about the baby, Charlotte thought. Without thinking she turned to David, smiled and said, ‘I think they’ll be all right. I think they may very well rebuild their lives.’

  David smiled back, the way he used to do before the war. She looked into his eyes and studied them for some sign of the violence she had known. There was only a lost and lonely kind of look and, as her eyes filled with tears, she felt his hand slowly covering hers.

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  Epub ISBN 9781448147786

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  First published as The Rest of Our Lives in 2002 by Orion

  This edition published in 2012 by Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing

  A Random House Group Company

  Copyright © 2002 Jeannie Johnson writing as Lizzie Lane

  Lizzie Lane has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner

  The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009

  Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.co.uk

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9780091950347

  To buy books by your favourite authors and register for offers visit www.randomhouse.co.uk