Sing As We Go

by Margaret Dickinson

  She didn’t cry. She couldn’t. She felt as if there was a leaden weight in her chest, a sadness too deep even for tears.

  Twenty-Nine

  It was the wrong time of the year to seek work back at the café, but Kathy was lucky. She found work at one of the local cinemas, the Grand, which had a stage that could be used for live theatre. There were two different programmes of films during the week, each one lasting three days. Sometimes on Sunday evenings there was a live show, usually with a wartime theme. Artistes from units of the forces stationed in the district put together a programme of music and orchestras, and bands from the Royal Marines played.

  During the day Kathy worked in the box office, at night she was an usherette.

  ‘I’m so glad I took you on,’ Larry Johnson, the cinema’s manager told her. ‘You’re so willing to do anything we ask you.’ He was young, fresh-faced and eager and Kathy wondered why he had not been called up. It wasn’t long before he was confiding, ‘I wanted to join the RAF, but I have a weak heart, so – ’ he spread his hands, almost apologetically – ‘I thought I’d try to do something to keep everyone’s spirits up.’

  Kathy smiled sympathetically, ‘I’m sure you’re doing a wonderful job and I’m only too glad to help out.’

  She wanted to fill every waking moment. Nights were the worst, when she lay lonely and sleepless, aching to hold the warm little body in her arms. Then she would turn and sob into her pillow until exhaustion overtook her. She grew thinner and paler, but still she pushed herself on, no longer caring what became of her.

  Any time she had free during the day she took the long walk out of the town towards the south, just on the offchance of meeting Mrs Wainwright wheeling James out in his perambulator. In the evenings, the darkness of the cinema hid her tears.

  Five girls, smartly dressed in WRNS uniform, came up the steps and into the cinema a little after the start of the evening’s programme. Mrs Riley, the elderly, grey-haired lady who manned the box office in the evening, gave them their tickets and directed them to the door leading into the stalls. ‘The film’s only just started, you’ve not missed much.’

  Kathy forced a smile on to her face as the girls entered the auditorium, stumbling and giggling in the darkness.

  ‘Sh,’ someone from a nearby seat hissed. ‘Can’t you be quiet?’

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Kathy heard a familiar voice say. ‘We’ve only just got off duty.’

  The complaining voice was mollified. ‘Oh, Wrens, are you? Well, we’ll let you off then. There are seats here.’ The man stood up, inviting them to sit beside him.

  ‘Sorry, I think my friends want to be nearer the front,’ the girl said cheerfully and turned to follow the wavering light of Kathy’s torch leading them down the aisle.

  As she stood, pointing the beam of her torch towards the empty row of seats about half way down the aisle, she felt someone touch her arm and the voice she knew say softly, ‘Kathy!’ Then boisterous arms were flung around her and she was hugged tightly. ‘Oh, darling Kathy, it is you.’

  A chorus of ‘sh’ came out of the darkness.

  ‘Amy – sit down,’ Kathy whispered. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  ‘You won’t disappear? You promise?’

  ‘I promise, but please – sit down now, or else you’ll get me the sack.’

  Amy squeezed her hand but sat down without another word, while Kathy walked back to her seat near the door, ready for any more latecomers.

  Kathy sat in the darkness staring at the brightly lit screen, yet she saw and heard nothing. Her mind was in a turmoil. She was tempted to break her promise, plead sickness to the cinema manager and leave before the interval, when she knew Amy would seek her out. But something held her in her seat. Was it an overwhelming desire to see her dearest friend again? To feel, just for an hour or so, that someone cared for her? She longed to know how the Robinson family were. All of them, Ted and Betty, Morry and, of course, Aunt Jemima. And she wanted to hear any news that Amy might have of her mother. She wondered if Edith knew that she had a grandchild. Would the Robinsons have told her parents that she had been – as her father rightly predicted – pregnant? She didn’t think they would betray her secret, yet Betty might have succumbed to an overwhelming desire to tell Edith. Part of Kathy hoped she had done so.

  The first film ended and the Pathé News came on. As the house lights went up, Amy was out of her seat and running up the aisle towards her before anyone else had moved.

  ‘Kathy, Oh Kathy, I’m so glad I’ve found you. Why didn’t you write, you naughty girl? We’ve been so worried – all of us. Can we go somewhere to talk?’

  ‘Not until after the last film,’ Kathy said. ‘I’m still on duty.’

  ‘Of course. All right.’

  ‘You coming to the bar across the road, Amy?’

  ‘Yes – yes, you go on. Port and lemon for me, please. I’ll be there in a mo. I’ve just met an old friend.’

  ‘We gathered,’ the other girl smiled and another quipped, ‘That’s her way of getting out of paying for the drinks.’ She winked at Kathy. ‘I bet she doesn’t know you from Adam – or rather Eve – does she?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Kathy said huskily. ‘She – she’s my best friend.’

  Another hug and Amy followed her friends, saying again, ‘Don’t you dare disappear again. I’ll see you afterwards in the bar. Okay? And the drinks will be on me.’

  Kathy looked forward to, and yet at the same time dreaded, the end of the show.

  When all the cinema-goers had finally gone, Kathy took a deep breath and made her way across the road.

  ‘Here she is.’ Amy jumped up at once and beckoned her to the corner where the five girls were seated. She made the introductions. ‘This is Dorothy, Millie, Janet and Vicky.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘We’re just up the road at a holiday camp that’s been turned into a training camp for the Navy,’ Amy explained. ‘It’s my first posting. But none of us know how long we’re here for.’ She hugged Kathy again enthusiastically. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you. Tell me everything.’

  ‘Well . . .’ she hesitated, not wanting to talk freely in front of the others.

  ‘Look,’ Dorothy said, perceptive to Kathy’s hesitation. ‘You two go off on your own. We’re fine here. We’ll give you a shout when we’re ready to leave. The Liberty Bus leaves in fifty minutes and we mustn’t miss it.’

  ‘The Liberty Bus?’ Kathy smiled as they rose and, carrying their drinks, moved to a table in a quiet corner where, above the hubbub, their conversation would not be heard. ‘Whatever’s that?’

  ‘It’s the bus that brings us from camp into town,’ Amy giggled. ‘Brings us to liberty, I suppose.’

  There was a pause before Kathy asked haltingly, ‘How – how’s everyone? Your mum and dad and – and Morry?’

  ‘They’re all fine, but we’ve all been so worried about you. Tell me everything, Kathy. How’ve you been and – ’ she lowered her voice – ‘what about the baby?’

  Suddenly it all came pouring out, like the floodgates opening. She told Amy everything that had happened to her since she had left Lincoln, ending with, ‘He – he’s been adopted by a nice woman, I have to admit. She looks smart and lives in a big house on the outskirts of the town. And there’s no doubt she – she loves him.’

  ‘You – you know who she is? I thought they didn’t let you know anything about the adoptive parents, just in case . . .’ Amy faltered and stopped.

  ‘Just in case I tried to snatch him back or made a nuisance of myself, you mean?’

  ‘Well – yes.’

  Kathy sighed, and explained how she had found out the Wainwrights’ address.

  ‘You rogue,’ Amy said with admiration. ‘I wouldn’t have dared.’

  ‘I think that’s what the matron depends on. Why she’s not more careful to secure her records. She doesn’t think anyone would dare to go into her office. Mind you, I’m surprised no one has.’
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  ‘Perhaps they have. They’re not going to tell anyone, are they? Any more than you’ve done.’

  ‘No,’ Kathy smiled. ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘So, what are you going to do? Try to get him back somehow?’

  Kathy was silent for a long moment while she searched her heart and her mind. Her heart told her to run to the house this very minute, bang on their door and demand her child. But her head told her that the Wainwrights could give her son everything that she could not. And, most important of all, Kathy had seen for herself the love that Mrs Wainwright had for the baby boy. He would be cared for and cosseted and loved. He would have a legitimate name, not some vile insult called after him in the playground. Her head won. Slowly she said, ‘No, I can’t. I can’t do that to him. He deserves better than I can give him. And besides, it’s too late. That woman loves him, really loves him. How can I do that to her now?’

  ‘But he’s your child. You’re his mother. He should be with you,’ Amy persisted.

  Kathy closed her eyes and groaned. ‘I know, I know. But he’d carry the stigma of illegitimacy all his life. This way he has a good home with people who love him and can give him everything.’

  Softly Amy said, ‘But you love him, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ Kathy cried out so loudly that one or two nearby glanced round at her. She turned her face away to hide her tears. ‘Of course I do,’ she whispered again. ‘And that’s why I know it’s the right thing that he should stay where he is. Oh, it wasn’t done in the right way. Those people at the home – there should be a law against what they’re doing – but in the end, what choice do I really have?’

  ‘You could come home and marry Morry,’ Amy said simply.

  Kathy went with them to the bus. Amy hugged her as they parted. ‘If you change your mind, you know where we still live and Morry won’t ever change his.’

  Amy’s words did nothing to ease Kathy’s conscience over Morry, yet she knew she was right not to give in. A one-sided marriage was no marriage at all. And she was too fond of Morry to do that to him, even if, at the moment, he might think otherwise.

  ‘Won’t you at least come home for Christmas? I’ve been really lucky; I’ve got a seventy-two. We could go together.’

  ‘I—’ For a moment Kathy was very tempted. She yearned to be enveloped in the loving Robinson family. ‘I can’t,’ she said at last and her tone was full of regret. ‘I have to work.’

  Amy pulled a face, hugged her swiftly one last time and climbed aboard the bus. She was still waving from the back seat as it drew away.

  Kathy walked back to her lodgings feeling a turmoil of emotion. Seeing Amy had been wonderful and yet it left her with a strange feeling of unrest.

  ‘I must move on,’ she murmured aloud as she walked home through the blacked-out streets, with only a thin pencil line of a torchlight to guide her. ‘Go somewhere else. Now Amy has found me, I’ll have the whole Robinson clan down on me.’ And yet she couldn’t drag herself away from the place where her son lived. Though she couldn’t see him, couldn’t hold him, she did feel close to him. She could stand outside the gate and look up at the windows and imagine him in his cot or lying on a rug in front of the fire, while Mrs Wainwright knelt beside him, playing with him, caressing him with adoring eyes.

  But the days passed and no one came. She saw Amy briefly now and again, until on one meeting in the pub in late March after Kathy had finished her duty, Amy said, ‘I’ve been posted down south. I’ve a week’s leave before I go, so I’m going home. Do – do you still want me to keep quiet about where you are?’

  Kathy raised her eyebrows, surprised that her loquacious friend had kept her secret thus far. But then she remembered. Despite giving the opposite impression, Amy was really very good at keeping secrets. Kathy nodded. ‘I don’t expect you to lie for me if anyone asks you straight out, but unless they do, yes, I’d prefer that no one knows.’

  ‘Okay,’ Amy nodded. ‘I don’t suppose they’ll think to ask me anyway. But . . .’ she bit her lip and looked awkwardly at Kathy.

  ‘What? What is it?’

  ‘Well, there is some news. Not good, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Is it – is it my mam?’

  ‘No, no, not that. They’re fine, at least – ’ Amy pulled a face – ‘as fine as they’ll ever be.’

  Kathy smiled weakly. But she could see from Amy’s worried expression that the news had something to do with her.

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Aunt Jemima told us. She only heard quite recently and Mum’s written to tell me. But, of course, she didn’t realize that I often see you.’ Amy took a deep breath and took hold of both Kathy’s hands, gripping them tightly. ‘You know that Tony went to train to be a fighter pilot?’

  Kathy nodded, her heart beating painfully. She almost knew what was coming before Amy said the words. ‘It seems he was involved in the Battle of Britain. You know, all that fighting that went on in the south and over the Channel last autumn?’

  ‘I – I’ve heard about it, though at the time . . .’ Kathy’s voice faded away and she shuddered as she remembered being shut up behind the grim walls of Willow House, cut off in shame from the world outside and everything that was happening. She began to tremble. She couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe.

  ‘He – he was shot down and – he was posted missing, presumed killed.’

  The room seemed to spin. Kathy clutched at the table, her hands pulling free of Amy’s grasp as she felt herself falling sideways. She knew no more until she opened her eyes to see Amy’s face bending over her, chafing her hand.

  ‘She’s coming round,’ a strange voice said. ‘Don’t let her get up too quickly though. There, steadily does it.’

  ‘Can we help?’ said a man’s voice and Kathy found herself lifted bodily from the floor by two sailors and placed gently on the chair where she’d been sitting.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ one asked.

  ‘Thank you, she’ll be fine now. I – I just had to give her some bad news.’

  The fresh-faced young man grimaced. ‘Tell me about it. Well, if you’re sure you’re all right . . .’

  ‘We’re fine, but thanks for your help.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’ He laid his hand gently on Kathy’s shoulder. ‘Hope you’ll be all right, miss.’

  Kathy murmured her thanks. Her head was still woolly as the landlord of the pub arrived at the table. ‘Here, miss, drink this brandy. It’ll help. On the house, love,’ he said to Amy as she offered to pay.

  Kathy sipped the liquid and colour came back into her cheeks.

  ‘Are you going to be all right?’ Amy said anxiously. ‘Because I daren’t miss the bus.’

  ‘I’ll be fine in a minute. It was – it was just the shock.’

  They sat a few moments longer in silence, neither knowing what to say now, until Amy was obliged to say, ‘I’ll have to go.’

  ‘Yes, yes. I know. I’ll be all right. Honestly.’

  Amy kissed her. ‘This is “au revoir” for the moment then. Take care of yourself, and I’m so sorry I had to break such news to you, but – but I thought you should know.’

  ‘Of course,’ Kathy said flatly.

  All hope was gone now. Any dreams she might have had that one day she would meet Tony again were blown away by those few words. ‘Missing, presumed killed.’

  But even amid her own sorrow, Kathy spared a thought for Beatrice Kendall.

  It was the first time she’d felt any sympathy for the woman. Now that she had given birth to her own son, and lost him, she understood the devastation Tony’s mother would be feeling.

  Thirty

  After she knew Amy had gone, Kathy felt even more bereft than ever. And to be left with such heartbreaking news, too, was almost too much to bear. The days now passed in a blur. Kathy was hardly aware of what she was doing. She did her job but she couldn’t even force the cheery smile she always plastered on her face. Before she knew it, it was spring and S
altershaven was flooded with personnel from the RAF training centre that had been set up in the town.

  One Sunday evening towards the end of April, when there was a live show on the stage of the cinema instead of a film, several airmen came to the cinema, laughing and joking and flirting with any girl in sight.

  Kathy looked at them with bitterness. Why should they be alive when Tony was dead? Immediately she felt guilty.

  ‘Cheer up, love, it’ll never happen,’ said one cheery young man. He looked no more than a boy, Kathy thought. He looked as if he shouldn’t be out of short trousers yet, never mind flying off to face the enemy.

  Now, for the first time since Amy had told her the awful news, Kathy’s smile was genuine as she said huskily, ‘Not with you brave boys defending us, it won’t. Good luck to you.’

  The young man’s face sobered for a moment and then he nodded and said, ‘Thanks, but tonight, we’ve got a night off. We’re looking forward to this. Have you seen the show before?’

  Kathy shook her head. ‘No. It’s the first time this particular concert party’s been here.’

  ‘I hear they’re from Lincoln?’

  ‘Really?’ Kathy glanced down at the programme she held in her hand. So lost had she been in her own private grief that she hadn’t really taken in the name of the concert party appearing tonight. But now she saw the name on the programme she gave a gasp of delight. ‘The Lindum Lovelies’ bring you Sing As We Go, a musical extravaganza of laughter and song,’ she murmured aloud. ‘Of course! I should have known.’

  The lights began to dim as she showed the young man into his seat. Then, taking her own seat at the back, Kathy looked eagerly towards the stage, wondering if there would be anyone among the artistes whom she might recognize. And there was. The very first person to come on to the stage as compère for the evening was none other than Ron Spencer.