He was in an entirely different frame of mind when he went home that evening. If he had not had the presence of mind to swerve when he did, he would be lying on a mortuary slab now and his second brush with death had made him see how petty he’d been with Freda. The problem lay at his own door as much as hers.
Mrs Cuthbert looked at him with dislike when he went into the house that night but he walked past her to the bedroom where he threw his arms round his wife. ‘Freda, darling, I’m sorry I was so nasty. It’s all my fault, and I’ll never badger you again. I love you so much, I couldn’t live without you.’
Her jealousy having increased the more she thought about it, Freda drew away, stiffly. ‘What did Olive have to say in her letter?’
‘Olive? What’s she got to do with us?’
‘I don’t know but there’s something you haven’t told me.’
Drawing the letter from his pocket, he handed it over. ‘I don’t understand what you mean but read it for yourself.’
Her expression changed as she scanned the single page, and she turned to him in remorse when she came to the end. ‘I’m sorry, Neil. I thought there was something between you, but I see it was all on her side.’
Having been apprehensive himself before he read it, Neil had been astounded at what Olive had written. Olive, who had never apologised for anything, who had thought of no one but herself all her life. He took the letter back from his wife and read it through again.
Neil,
I have known for some time about the trick you and Alf played on me and I was very hurt that you disliked me so much. That was why I did everything I could to make you say you loved me, but I know now that even if I had succeeded it would have been a hollow revenge, because it is Freda you truly love. So, my dear boy, I wish you both every happiness in your marriage, and I trust that you will not think too harshly of . . .
Your Cousin, Olive
‘There is one thing more I should tell you,’ he said as he tore the letter through the middle.
Freda placed her fingertips over his mouth. ‘No, Neil, I don’t want to hear. I’ve been thinking all day about us and I know that it’s my . . . failing that makes us quarrel, so I’ve decided it would be best if we found somewhere else to live. It’s been the thought of my mother hearing us that . . .’
‘Oh, my darling.’ Neil drew her gently towards him. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’
‘I’m positive, so we can begin looking for a room. I don’t mind where or what, as long as I’m with you.’
Their kiss was interrupted by Mrs Cuthbert, who said, in tones of deep disgust, ‘When you’ve finished your nonsense, your tea’s ready.’
‘Bugger off!’ Neil retorted, kissing his wife again with even more ardour than before as the woman scuttled out, her face scarlet. ‘I know she’s your mother,’ he said, in a few moments, ‘but she’s asked for that since we were married.’
Freda gave a nervous giggle, ‘How are we going to face her when we go through for our tea?’
He grinned. ‘I’m not hungry, are you?’
‘Not really.’
‘Well, I’m quite enjoying this reconciliation business, so I vote we carry on. I’m damned sure she won’t come in again without knocking.’
Olive went down for breakfast as her father was making ready to go to his office. ‘You’re late,’ he accused. ‘It’s time you bucked up your ideas.’
‘I’m not going in today, I’ve a bit of a headache.’
‘All you young girls are the same, you stay at home on the slightest excuse. Well, some of us have to work. Cheerio.’
‘Goodbye, Dad.’
Disappointed at his daughter’s lack of commitment to the career she had chosen, Martin did not recognise the anguish underlying those two words, and neither did Hetty, who was regarding the girl with some concern. ‘You don’t look well. Should I phone the doctor?’
‘No, it’s nothing.’ Olive ate only one slice of toast with a cup of tea before she went back upstairs. She had packed a few things last night and had scribbled a note of farewell when she rose, which was why she’d been late for breakfast. She knew that by sneaking out she would distress her mother, but she could not bring herself to tell her face to face. There would be tears, pleading for explanation, maybe even realisation, and she couldn’t risk that. It had to be this way. A clean break . . . for ever. No letters.
She took her coat out of the wardrobe, then glanced round the room, the bedroom which had been hers since her family came to Rubislaw Den . . . nearly eighteen years ago. She would never see it again – there would be no coming back. Lifting her small case with a shuddering sigh, Olive went out on to the landing to make sure that her mother was safely out of earshot in the kitchen, then crept downstairs and out by the front door.
Chapter Twenty-two
When Gracie wrote to say that Olive had left home and that Hetty had no idea why or where she had gone, Queenie’s heart went out to the cousin who had also loved and lost Neil, but she did wonder if this was another trick. Had Olive really given up on him, or would she interfere in his life again?
Queenie, herself, felt more drawn towards Les Clark every time they went out, but not in any romantic way. He was good company whatever they did on their evenings together, he had helped her to get over Neil, and she hoped that he would ask her to keep in touch when they went their separate ways. It would be a pity to let their friendship lapse once more.
When his time at Padgate came to an end, Les told her that he would write, and before her own leave came up, seven days later, he had sent two letters from South Norwood. She said nothing about him when she went home, in case Gracie and Joe jumped to the conclusion that he was her boyfriend, and she didn’t think of him like that – not yet, anyway.
After one unsuccessful attempt to find out if there was a boy on the horizon, her aunt wanted to know what she had had to do on her training, and Patsy was too anxious to tell her about her Canadian to bother about anything else. ‘Jake said he didn’t try to contact me when he left Foresterhill first because he wasn’t sure if I wanted him to, but he’d thought about me so much that he finally had to write. We’ve been going out for four weeks now.’
‘Aye,’ commented Joe, dryly, ‘Jake’s all we hear about day in, day out, and you should think yourself lucky you’re not here to have to put up with it, Queenie.’
‘Och, Joe, don’t exaggerate,’ his wife warned. ‘It hasn’t been as bad as that.’
That evening, as Joe had agreed to take over the duties of an air raid warden who had died suddenly and Patsy was on night duty, Queenie was left alone with her aunt. ‘What do you think of Patsy going steady?’ she asked.
Gracie shrugged. ‘I’m not against her having a lad, but I can’t say I’m happy about this Jake.’
‘Don’t you like him?’
‘I haven’t met him yet, but if they’re serious about each other, he’ll likely want to take her to Canada after the war and we’ll never see her again.’
‘I see what you mean,’ Queenie nodded. ‘Do you think they are serious?’
‘I’m near sure Patsy is, and I wouldn’t let her know how I feel if she does want to marry Jake, for he’d be a real good catch. His father’s got a big business, three branches round Quebec and two in Montreal, as well.’
Thinking, a little wryly, that no one could say Les was a good catch – his father was only a labourer – Queenie found that there was some truth in the saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder. She was even thinking of him in terms of a future husband now. ‘Has Hetty had any word from Olive yet?’ she asked, to change the subject.
‘No, and she’s really worried. She can’t think what made her walk out without a word, for they hadn’t had a row, not lately, anyway, and she says Olive hadn’t been looking well for ages. She thinks she was upset because Neil got married so soon after he went back, but I can’t help feeling there’s more to it than that, for she took her time about leaving.’
‘Oh, you didn’t know, of course. He didn’t tell his mother when he was home that it was embarkation leave, but he wrote after he went back. They were being sent to the Middle East, or somewhere, so it’ll be a while before she hears from him again, no doubt. Poor Hetty, she’s not had her troubles to seek, has she? I’m lucky, for I know where every one of my family is.’
‘I’m being shifted, anyway. I’ve to report at Dover when I go back.’
Gracie’s face fell. ‘Oh, no! It’s too near the Germans for my liking.’
‘It’s a bit near for my liking, too,’ Queenie smiled, ‘but I’ve got to go where I’m told.’
‘Aye, of course you have, but be careful and don’t take any risks. You know, I can’t get over Neil still being left in this country, though I’m pleased about it.’
‘How is he?’
‘He’s a lot happier now. He wasn’t getting on with Freda’s mother, so they’ve rented a room a good bit away from her.’
Glad that she could talk about Neil with only the faintest disturbance to her heart – it wasn’t even strong enough to be classed as an ache – Queenie said, ‘Is there any word of you being a grandmother?’
‘Not yet, but I’m keeping hoping.’
They both laughed at that, then Queenie looked candidly at her aunt. ‘I loved him, you know.’
‘Aye, I thought you did,’ Gracie sighed, ‘but it wouldn’t have been right for cousins to marry. Believe me, lassie, it was better this way, though I was sorry for you.’
‘I was sorry for myself and joining up was the best thing I could have done. I’ve got over him, honestly.’
‘I’m glad, and you’ll find the right man for you some day. You never know, maybe you’ll meet him where you’re going but I hope it’s not a Canadian or a foreigner, for I don’t want to lose you after the war as well as Patsy.’
‘I think I’ll stick to an English boy.’ Queenie wondered if her aunt would pick her up on that – she should have said British – but Gracie hadn’t noticed. All the newspapers were speaking about Britain as England these days; Vera Lynn sang ‘There’ll always be an England’, and even the Scots sang it lustily and patriotically. The war seemed to have broken the old barriers, at least for its duration.
Gracie handed her niece a letter which came the following morning, and looked at her curiously as she read it. ‘It’s from an old school friend I met at Padgate,’ Queenie said brightly, still reluctant to speak openly about Les. ‘We had some good times together and we promised to keep in touch.’
‘Oh, that was nice,’ Gracie exclaimed. ‘I bet you were pleased to see her again.’
Feeling guilty for the unnecessary deception, Queenie just nodded, but her aunt went on, ‘Will she be going to the same place as you?’
The girl chose her words carefully. ‘No, but I think we’ll be able to see each other sometimes.’
‘That’s good, though I suppose you’ll make other chums.’
‘Oh, yes. I’ll be with two other girls I know, so I won’t feel so strange.’
‘You look older in your uniform,’ Joe observed, out of the blue. ‘I wondered yesterday what was different about you and it just dawned on me. You’ve got your hair up.’
‘It’s rolled round an old stocking,’ Queenie giggled. ‘We had to keep our hair out of our eyes, you see, and we found it was easiest this way. Kirbigrips kept falling out.’
Patsy gave a loud yawn. ‘Don’t I know it – we’re always in trouble if our hair’s not kept back. Well, I’m going to bed if you folk don’t mind. We’d a hectic night in Casualty and I’m just about dropping. Will you give me a shout about two, Mum? I’m meeting Jake at three.’
Turning round, Joe said sharply, ‘And when are we getting to meet him? I’d like to see what kind of man he is.’
Patsy looked at her mother. ‘Is it all right if I ask him to come to tea?’
‘As long as he won’t expect anything fancy.’
‘He won’t. OK, I’ll take him back for six.’
Flopping down on her bed, Queenie longed for the serenity of the tenement in King Street. Being near the south coast was like living on the edge of a volcano – a constantly active volcano – and they never knew when the VIs that passed overhead would stop and plummet earthwards. When the buzzing cut out, there was a scramble for cover, the male clerks as well as the female, because no allowances were made for the weaker sex . . . they didn’t consider themselves the weaker sex.
She wondered if Les had got back to Ashford all right. She was always worried until she heard from him after he’d come to see her, and he came as often as he possibly could. Last night they had spent four hours together, four wonderful but traumatic hours. When the first buzz-bomb came down, he had pushed her down and lain across her, holding her tightly as the world exploded around them, then, when they sat up, both trembling with fear but relieved that they were still all in one piece, he had whispered, ‘Queenie, I love you.’
Because she wasn’t sure if that was what he had actually said, she kept silent and he murmured, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you, not yet, when you’d made it clear that we could just be friends, but I had to. I love you so much I’m terrified in case something happens to you.’
‘I’m glad you told me. We’ll always be friends, but I know now that I love you, too. At first, I could hardly believe it, but . . .’
His kiss stopped her, but in a few moments, he said, ‘I’ve always loved you, from the time I saw you in your new blazer and three-quarter socks at the door of St Marks. Of course, it was only a small boy’s love then, but as I grew older, I often wondered what had happened to you and wished I could find you again.’
‘Thank God you did find me again.’
Recalling this tender moment, Queenie’s heart swelled with love for Les again. She’d been in seventh heaven, then their kisses had been interrupted by another VI, although it had fallen some distance away. Being in love in the midst of attacks like that was nerve-racking, but it was something to tell their children, something to remember when they were old and grey.
Before she fell asleep, Queenie’s thoughts turned to Patsy and her Canadian. When she had met Jake, he had been as nice as Patsy said he was, and it had been plain to everyone that they loved each other – even Joe had remarked on it the next day. Maybe she should tell her aunt and uncle about Les, now that they’d declared their love to each other, but not in a letter. That would be too cold and impersonal, so she would wait until she went home next time.
When Neil took Freda to Aberdeen again – the first time as his wife – his air of satisfied well-being proved to Gracie that marriage was agreeing with him, and his remark to Patsy that she didn’t know what she was missing only endorsed it.
His sister blushed. ‘Jake wants us to get married, but I’m not too sure. He could be posted overseas, and . . .’
‘Don’t waste your life,’ Neil told her. ‘If you love him, marry him. Make the man happy, for God’s sake, even if it’s only for a little while.’
Gracie frowned. ‘Don’t say things like that, Neil.’
‘We’ve got to face facts, Mum, and if she lets him away, she might regret it all her life. In the last war, a lot of women refused to marry their sweethearts before they went to France, and they were left lonely and bitter because they’d lost their chance of a little happiness. You don’t want to end up like that, do you, Patsy?’
‘You’re being rather cruel, Neil,’ Freda objected.
‘I’m being realistic, that’s all.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Patsy said now. ‘I don’t want to be a lonely old spinster. I’ll tell Jake tonight.’
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Joe exclaimed, looking at his son with mock severity. ‘I suppose I’ll have to stump up for a wedding now.’
‘Jake said he could get a special licence, and if he does, you wouldn’t have to pay for anything, Dad.’
>
A broad smile crossed Joe’s face. ‘Now there’s a man after my own heart.’
Patsy turned to her mother. ‘You don’t mind, Mum?’
Pushing her sadness to the back of her mind, Gracie shook her head. ‘If you’re sure, that’s all I care about.’
When Patsy asked Freda to come into her bedroom to discuss what she could wear, Gracie took the opportunity to say, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Olive?’
Neil frowned slightly. ‘Just a note to say she wished us every happiness in our marriage, and as far as I can tell, it had been written before she walked out. It’s got me beat; I can’t think why she left like that. It’s not like her.’
‘Hetty doesn’t know, either, and she’s had no word, though it’s nearly three months now. Martin’s furious, but Hetty’s really worried.’
‘Olive’ll be OK. She’s fit enough to look after herself.’ Neil didn’t tell his mother that he believed that Olive had left home because she could not face seeing him with a wife, it would have sounded too conceited. Before he learned that she had left home, he had worried a bit himself about seeing her. Her letter had made out that she had given up on him, but he still hadn’t trusted her.
‘She should have written to let her mother know where she was, though,’ Gracie went on. ‘She never considers anybody.’
It occurred to Neil that Olive might have been trying to save embarrassment to him as much as to herself, so he said, ‘She likely will write home once she’s sorted herself out.’
The wedding was arranged for the Saturday of the following week and Jake asked Neil and Freda to be witnesses. Freda went with Patsy to help her to choose her outfit but when Gracie saw her daughter dressed on the actual morning, she had to keep back her tears. The grey suit, chosen for serviceability, was brightened by a blue blouse – both the result of pooling her parents’ clothing coupons. The little pillbox hat with its removable veil was in exactly the same shade as the shirt, picking up the colour of her eyes. She looked so lovely, so radiant, that even Joe had to blink tears away.
Cousins at War Page 25