by Joanna Toye
‘I suppose Auntie Jean’s told you,’ he said.
‘About your letter? Yes.’
Dora deliberately didn’t ask who Phyllis was, as she knew Jean had, only for Kenny to clam up. As they took their regular route to the park, she waited for Kenny to tell her and when they got there and Buddy was off the lead, he did.
‘We went out together, me and Phyllis,’ he began. ‘Oh, years ago – we were only kids – sixteen, I think. We were quite sweet on each other. But she seemed to want to get serious and my mates were ribbing me about being under the thumb, being no fun any more, so I finished it. I still saw her around, then she went nursing training, and her mum and dad moved away to the Wirral.’
‘And you lost touch?’
‘Yeah. But it seems she went back to Liverpool, our old haunts … she hadn’t till then, but she was visiting her mam and dad, so I dunno why, old times’ sake, look up old friends, or something … She saw our street had been bombed, like, and wondered what had happened to my lot. And those that were still around told her what they knew. And somehow she remembered me talking about Hinton and my aunt and uncle and tracked me down.’
‘You make it sound easy. She must have been keen to find you.’
Kenny shrugged, but blushed.
‘Dunno about that.’
Dora did. With all evidence of previous occupants gone and the difficulty of identifying bodies in the rubble of bombed buildings, with people’s identities being mixed up, identity cards forged or stolen and sold on, and the authorities little or no help, you had to be pretty determined to find a missing person these days.
‘And she’s coming to see you?’
‘Tomorrow. Staying over. In the parlour,’ he added quickly.
‘I see! Well, good. How nice. I’d better let you off Buddy duties for a couple of days.’
Kenny turned and looked at her straight. That was another thing he’d learnt to do – he’d kept his eyes downcast before, but bit by bit, he was starting to trust people again.
‘I’d never have replied before,’ he said. ‘Let alone let her, or anyone I used to know, come and see me like this.’ He tapped his empty sleeve. ‘I’m not saying I feel great about it even now, but … I dunno. You’ve helped me get my head a bit straighter somehow.’
‘I’ve done nothing,’ said Dora. ‘But if you’re starting to feel better about things, more forward-looking, well, that’s all to the good.’
‘You listened,’ said Kenny. ‘You started me off and you listened. Thank you.’
Next day, Dora was just having five minutes’ sit-down with her mending when she heard the back gate go. She was by the window, making the most of the daylight, and looked up to see Kenny coming across the yard. With him was a tallish girl, whose coppery hair gleamed beneath a pert green hat. Her brown tweed coat was both serviceable and smart and she wore sensible lace-up shoes, Dora noted with approval. So this was Phyllis.
‘Anyone home?’ called Kenny as Dora moved to the doorway to beckon them in and start making the inevitable pot of tea. Thank goodness there was a bit of gingerbread in the tin.
Kenny sat down on one of the dining chairs but Phyllis ranged about the room, looking at the photos on the mantelpiece and admiring Dora’s antimacassars. Dora poured the tea and Phyllis finally sat down. They chatted about this and that for twenty minutes, with the women doing most of the talking. Phyllis had been nursing down south for the entire war – London, Surrey, Kent – in military and general hospitals, and in pretty horrendous conditions. Her hospitals had twice had direct hits; she’d dealt with air-raid victims and returning servicemen – burns, broken limbs, fatal injuries, the lot. She cast a lot of looks towards Kenny as she said all this, Dora noticed, but he kept his eyes down, fussing Buddy, who’d craftily slunk inside with them.
When the conversation faltered, Kenny spoke up.
‘We’ve come to take the dog out for you.’
‘Oh! Well, yes, do, that’d be a big help. Thank you,’ said Dora.
‘Actually, Kenny, why don’t you go,’ said Phyllis. ‘I’ll help Mrs Collins clear away. You won’t be long, will you?’
‘I don’t have to be.’
‘Good. Then you can show me the high life in Hinton,’ she smiled.
Dismissed, Kenny fetched Buddy’s lead. Phyllis waited till she’d heard the gate, then spoke directly to Dora.
‘I wanted a word,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. Kenny’s told me a lot about you.’
‘Has he? There’s not much to tell, is there?’
‘Oh, come on, no false modesty,’ said Phyllis. Dora was a bit taken aback – the girl certainly wasn’t backward in coming forward. ‘It wasn’t just Kenny that wrote to me. His auntie sent me a letter too. Said how miserable and difficult he was when he first arrived. And she credited you – well, you and Buddy – for bringing him out of himself.’
‘No, honestly—’ Dora began.
‘He’s an idiot!’ Phyllis interrupted fondly. ‘I asked him, when he came to Liverpool, why didn’t he look me up, or at least my mam and dad? Or any of the old crowd? He just muttered, but I know why. He’s got this fixation about his arm, or lack of it. So all right, maybe he didn’t feel like seeing the old crowd, not that they’d have thought anything of it, but for goodness’ sake, I’m a State Registered Nurse! Does he think I haven’t seen worse than an amputation?’
Dora smiled to herself. Phyllis was a five-star plain speaker, all right; she’d even give Beryl a run for her money.
‘Have you told him this?’
‘Course I have. I told him as soon as he met me at the station! Told him not to be so daft. And anyway, it doesn’t have to be like that! He needs to get himself sorted out.’
‘I quite agree!’
‘I can help with that,’ Phyllis went on. ‘There’s charities, you know, one in particular. BLESMA it’s called. Blind and Limbless Ex-Servicemen’s Association. They can help.’
‘We’ve all wondered about him getting a prosthetic—’
‘I’m sure you have. He’s sensitive underneath it all, Kenny is. Too sensitive. That’s what finished us first time round, him caring what his mates were saying. And it’s the same with his arm, telling himself that everything was hopeless and he was useless and some sort of outcast, which is rubbish.’
‘His friends do seem very important to him,’ mused Dora. ‘Has he told you about the one he had in the Army? Wilf? The one that got killed – that’s really affected him.’
‘Wilf … yes. That all came out too.’ Phyllis’s voice softened. ‘It sounds like they were really good pals. Look, I’m not saying Kenny hasn’t had some hard times, seen some sights. But he’s far better off than a lot of the patients I’ve nursed. And as for feeling bad about being alive – that’s no way to carry on. He should be treasuring every moment.’
‘We all should who’ve come through it,’ agreed Dora.
Phyllis reached over and touched her hand.
‘It’s nearly over, Dora, that’s what they’re saying in London. Not long to go now. And I hear you’ve got a wedding to look forward to as well!’
Phyllis didn’t stay just one night, she stayed three. She and Kenny didn’t come for the dog again, but Dora saw them going off into town and coming back with parcels and one day, a large box of Kunzle cakes.
Jean was over the moon.
‘The difference in him!’ she exclaimed, bringing over a custard slice for Dora to have with her tea. ‘Splashing his money around – and not on drink! And she’s sprucing him up all right! New shirt, jacket – and a tie!’
‘She’s a force of nature, that one,’ said Dora, cutting her cake into three to save a morsel each for Lily and Jim. Ersatz filling or not, shop-bought cakes were an exceptional luxury.
Dora saw the difference in Kenny for herself when he brought Phyllis round on her last day to say goodbye. She’d taken him to the barber’s and he had a new haircut, thick and glossy with Brylcreem. He’d also had a professi
onal shave – something that was obviously difficult with only one hand. His face and neck were often pocked with tufts of beard and little cuts.
‘We brought you a present,’ he said shyly, handing over a package.
‘What? You shouldn’t have …’
Tutting, Dora unwrapped a small bottle of lavender water and some handkerchiefs embroidered with her initial. Handkerchiefs were even harder to come by than fancy cakes – either Phyllis had sacrificed her own coupons for them, or they were (whisper it) black market, but the pair of them waved away Dora’s thanks.
‘For the wedding,’ Phyllis smiled. ‘If I’m not mistaken, you’ll be shedding a tear, so they might come in handy.’
‘That’s very sweet of you,’ said Dora, moved. ‘I hope we’ll be seeing you again.’
‘That’s up to Kenny,’ replied Phyllis coyly, though Dora doubted he’d have much say in the matter.
Phyllis really was a case and a half, thought Dora. She’d obviously been carrying a torch for Kenny all these years, and now she’d found him again it was burning more strongly than ever.
She kissed them both and wished them well. Somehow she thought she’d be getting news of another wedding before the year was out.
Hope was on the horizon whichever way you looked. The Allies had finally won through in their campaign in the Ardennes and after Holland, the whole of Belgium had been liberated. At home, the Auxiliary Fire Service was stood down, another sign that the Government was feeling optimistic.
‘At this rate, the war might be over before we’re married!’ Lily exulted to Jim.
Sergeant Matthews now seemed more like her saviour than her nemesis and she almost felt like going back to Birmingham and thanking her, though she suspected that the recruiting office itself might be closed by now.
By the beginning of March, there was even success in the question of Dora’s outfit. In Paige Gowns she found a smart navy suit with corded piping on the collar and cuffs and in C&A, a pale-blue blouse with pintucks.
‘Honestly, Sid,’ Lily told him over the phone. ‘She looks lovely. So smart – like … like Greer Garson in Mrs Miniver!’
‘Steady on! And she actually spent all the money?’
‘Not quite,’ admitted Lily. ‘She made the shop knock some off because the hem on the skirt was coming down slightly at the back. And the blouse was on special offer.’ Sid chortled and Lily went on. ‘So there’s enough left over for a hat.’
And that Lily was determined Marlows’ Millinery department would provide. When clothes rationing had come in, the Government had decreed that hats didn’t need coupons. There was method in their madness – if women couldn’t have many new clothes, they reasoned, a new hat would cheer them and their outfit up. They’d been right, too.
Sensing that her dinner hour wouldn’t be nearly long enough for such an important transaction, though, Lily booked a couple of hours off one morning and she and her mum set off from Brook Street together arm in arm.
As they passed the various houses, Dora detailed which neighbours had given her their sugar coupons – it had become the tradition throughout the war in most neighbourhoods when a wedding was in the offing. Dora had done it herself when other people had had a wedding in the family. As a result, she was hopeful that Lily’s cake would at least be top-iced.
At Marlows, Lily enjoyed the novelty of walking in through the swing doors as a customer and up the carpeted main staircase. As they did so, she looked down on the ground floor. Last spring, she’d been working down there and again the Accessories department was a kaleidoscope of colours. On Small Leathers, Rita was rearranging her wallets and purses while the infamous Betty Simkins surreptitiously fluffed up her hair in her reflection on the countertop. Lily smiled. There were plenty of shoppers – the store was definitely busier and cheerier with every week that passed as the country became convinced the end was in sight.
Lily had already briefed Miss Burrows, the first sales on Millinery, that she’d be bringing her mother in.
‘A difficult customer if ever there was one!’ she’d warned. ‘That is, she’s lovely, but she’ll dither and take ages, so if there’s another customer waiting, please see to them first. But I shan’t let her leave without buying something!’
Miss Burrows seated them on velvet stools at a table with a triple mirror and Dora produced her suit jacket, which she’d brought with her for a colour match. Miss Burrows bore it away and returned in triumph with seven hats for Dora to try.
‘All a true navy,’ she said, laying out five differently shaped felt, feathered, and veiled confections. ‘And I brought a couple of others – a lighter blue and a saxe blue – in case you favour something tonal. Now I’ll leave you alone for a while to see if you can whittle them down to a couple of favourites.’
With a sly wink at Lily, she was gone.
To Lily’s enormous surprise, her mother bypassed the sensible felt-with-a-brim and reached straight for a fitted navy velour with a feather. She anchored it on her head with the hatpin provided and looked at her reflection this way and that.
‘Can you show me the back with the hand mirror?’ she asked, and Lily jumped to her feet.
‘This is the one,’ said Dora.
Lily blinked. She hadn’t even looked at the price.
‘You’re sure?’
‘Not too plain, not too fussy, it’ll go with my blue coat and my grey jacket and skirt. And I can change the feather or take it off altogether if I want to. Versatile, you’d call it.’ She reached for her bag and handed over her purse. ‘Go and settle up, Lily, will you? I think I might keep it on!’
You could have knocked Lily down with the feather on the hat, but she did as she was asked. Everything was going right.
Chapter 26
Time was galloping on. Soon, unbelievably, the wedding was only a week away. March had come in more like a lamb than the proverbial lion – so far, the month had been mild, settled and dry and the auguries looked good for the first official day of spring.
Everything was in place – dresses, hats, shoes, flowers. Lily and Jim, in consultation with Dora and with Sid, the sophisticate of the family, had chosen the menu for the private room at the White Lion – soup, duck with redcurrant sauce, and (the luxury!) trifle. Drinks would be ordered from the bar and there’d be Mr Marlow’s champagne to have with Dora’s cake, which she was about to ice. Sid would be arriving the night before and Bill, who’d been posted to HMS Birnbeck at Weston-super-Mare, had put in for a twelve-hour pass. Beryl, in her own finery, would come to Lily’s to help her dress, Sid having by then got Jim out of the way. Jean and Kenny, plus a handful of other neighbours and WI and WVS friends of Lily and Dora were going to come to the register office to see them emerge. So would Miss Frobisher and Mr Simmonds, singly or even together, they promised, if they could both get away. Jim was being mysterious about the night away he’d booked for them, and with a flutter in her heart, Lily was practising signing her name as ‘Lily Goodridge’.
In the meantime, life went on. Lily and Jim went to work and Dora’s daily round continued, including Kenny calling round for the dog.
She was pegging washing out when he arrived, Buddy getting under her feet.
‘He won’t leave me alone these past few days,’ she complained. ‘Sticking to me like glue, he is. I hope he’s not sickening for something.’
Sam had opened a Post Office account to pay for Buddy’s board and lodging, but a vet’s bill would put a proper dent in it.
Kenny bent down and fussed the dog.
‘Bright eyes, pink tongue,’ he said. ‘Not much wrong with him.’
‘Well, take him off my hands for a bit, then, if he’ll go without me,’ said Dora. Then, she thought to herself, I might even sit down for five minutes. She reached down to the basket for Jim’s shirt. ‘You know where his lead is— Ooh … aah … aah.’
She doubled up with a hand to her stomach.
Buddy whined as Kenny put out his good arm to support her
.
‘Dora?’
But Dora didn’t reply; instead she gave little whimpers of pain. She was as white as the shirt that had fallen from her hand and was trailing on the bricks underfoot.
Alarmed, Kenny looked around.
‘Let’s get you inside,’ he said. ‘A bit of a sit down, that should see you right.’
Dora was beyond making a reply, but as Kenny tried to walk her towards the back door, Buddy still whining in concern, her knees buckled and she slumped against him.
‘Hell …’ Kenny muttered under his breath. He thought quickly. His uncle was at work, Trevor at school, and Jean had gone to the shops. He knew the neighbours on the other side were out all day. It was no use calling for help. He tried again.
‘Dora, come on now, can you walk a bit? It’s only a few steps. I’ll help you.’
Again, all Dora could do was to make indeterminate noises of pain. Kenny could see it was hopeless. As gently as he could he eased her to the ground next to the privy and the coal shed. It was hardly ideal. The ground was cold and hard but he shrugged off his coat and tore off his jumper, rolling it into a pillow and using his coat as a blanket over her. Her face was a chalky white, her lips blueish and clamped in pain as she clutched her stomach. Buddy tried to lick her face.
‘You stay, Buddy, eh? Keep her warm, boy.’
Almost keening, Buddy lay down close by Dora’s side.
And to Dora, if she could hear him, Kenny said, ‘I’m going for help. I’ll be as quick as I can. You hang in there. For me.’
Lily was dealing with a difficult customer. Well, not difficult, exactly, but it was an awkward situation. She and Miss Temple had seen the woman approaching across the sales floor – a new customer, not anyone that either of them recognised. When the woman reached the counter, Lily stepped forward with a smile.