by Mary Gibson
Her attempts to soothe Pearl only seemed to agitate the baby more. She was standing by the washstand, hardly knowing why she had the wet cloth in her hand, aware it had something to do with the fact that her perfect child had been damaged and it was all her fault, when her pyjama-clad father burst into the room. He had taken the precaution of putting on his tin hat, though sometimes Peggy thought he might actually sleep in the thing.
‘Nah then, what’s all the fuss? What’s the matter with Moaning Minnie now?’
Peggy held the child for him to see. ‘The ceiling’s come down on her!’
He peered at the baby’s forehead. ‘Good gawd, it’s a scratch, Peg! What are you getting in such a two and eight for? Give her to me.’
Her father cradled the baby, and Peggy looked on in wonder. Her mother had told her he never picked them up as babies, in fact took no interest at all until they could speak. But now, by some magic, Pearl’s screaming died away to be replaced by some small shuddering sobs. The child allowed his leathery hand to pat the wound clean, without further protest.
‘There,’ he said, ‘right as rain now.’ And planting a kiss on the child’s forehead, he handed her back to Peggy.
‘Babies are a lot tougher than you think, gel. I’ve seen ’em pulled out of the rubble after three days and they still give you a smile! I’m going back to me bed.’
Perhaps he was right, but Peggy was glad to be taking Pearl out of Bermondsey, and not just because of the dangerous old house. There was another more selfish reason for her eagerness to be going to the country: George was back. She’d heard he was frequenting his old haunts and the other day when she’d taken Pearl out in her pram he was standing outside the Raymouth Tavern, taking bets. She was on the opposite side of the road, but she knew he’d seen her and felt his hostile stare following her. She couldn’t blame him. Though he might have deserved his time in prison, he didn’t deserve the shame of his unfaithful wife parading another man’s child in front of him.
She’d wanted to turn round, tell him she was sorry, that she hadn’t meant to hurt him. But what good would that do, when the impulse was merely one of pity? It could only deepen his injured pride, so she looked straight ahead and kept on walking. But it had made her wonder about the future. With George out of her life, the early years of the war had widened her choices, and she’d found she was capable of so much more than he’d ever allowed. But now she had Pearl to consider and her life belonged to someone else again. Her choices had narrowed and if they should have to move out of the house, though she might be able to bear the gypsy life, she wouldn’t want it for her child.
*
The tiny cottage in the grounds of the major’s house was as pretty as her mother had described in her letters. Its cosy warmth was everything Southwark Park Road no longer was. She and her father looked out of place, her mother’s sun-browned face contrasting starkly with their own city pallor. There was a pot of tea steaming on the table and Mrs Lloyd had just removed scones from the oven. The smell filled Peggy with a memory of coming home from school, comforted by the knowledge that her mother would always be there. When Mrs Lloyd had gone away into that grief-fuelled exile, Peggy had resigned herself to the loss. She could hardly believe it, but here was her mother again, risen from the ashes, smiling and reaching out floury hands for her grandchild. There wasn’t a trace of her earlier vagueness, nor a sign of her disappointment in Peggy.
‘Thank God, she’s here safe and sound. Got all her toes and fingers?’ Her mother counted. ‘She’s perfect!’ And then she spotted the little gash on her forehead and had to be told the story.
She shook her head.
‘You know I wouldn’t mind having her here, Peg. That house is a death trap and I’ve told ’im.’ She inclined her head towards Mr Lloyd. ‘But he won’t listen. I do believe he won’t leave it till it’s fallen down on top of him!’
Her mother looked sternly at her husband and Peggy shot a glance at her father. She knew that Mrs Lloyd was fighting a losing battle with him. But her mother’s words had already stirred a creeping anxiety in herself.
‘But, Mum, look at her.’ Peggy leaned over the child. ‘How can I leave her, she’s still so tiny.’
‘Well, you could stay here an’all!’ her mother suggested.
‘What about Dad? He’d be all on his own.’
Her father grunted. ‘Don’t trouble yourself about me. I’ll rub along all right on me own.’
Peggy shook her head. ‘You know I need to go back to work, Mum. Anyway, I’ll put her in a nursery, once I’ve started earning a bit again.’
‘A nursery? How can you shove the poor little thing into a place like that?’
‘It’s a nursery not a coal-hole, Mum!’
‘All I’m saying is she’ll be better off here, and she’s got to come first now, hasn’t she?’
Peggy’s heart felt wrung in two, as her mother’s words echoed her own self-doubt. But just then a voice came from the door.
‘Who’s got to come first?’
Peggy spun round. ‘May!’ It felt as if she’d been rescued – she’d never been more pleased to see her sister. ‘Come and see your niece!’
‘Oh, look at her, she’s so beautiful – look at those blue eyes! Come and see her, Bill.’
Bill stood by the door of the crowded kitchen and he blushed as all eyes were turned on him.
‘Let’s have a hold,’ May said, lifting Pearl out of Mrs Lloyd’s arms.
‘She looks just like little Jack! Apart from the dark hair,’ Bill said innocently.
May’s smile was unnaturally bright, and Peggy saw her nudge him. But Peggy was almost relieved that the elephant in the room had made its first appearance.
‘Well, I think she’s the spitting image of Peggy,’ May said and Bill looked puzzled.
‘Harry says she’ll lose that black hair, and it’ll turn as fair as Jack’s.’ Peggy swallowed hard and waited. Mr Lloyd never talked about Pearl’s father, but Peggy was determined Harry shouldn’t be turned into a dirty secret. ‘I’ve had a letter from him – he’s in Africa now,’ she added and there was a silence, before her mother jumped in.
‘Let’s go into the parlour. There’s no room in here.’
As soon as they were all seated in the parlour, her mother turned to the subject of Pat’s wedding, which was to take place on Saturday at the old church on the hill. After the baby was asleep, and Mr Lloyd had taken Bill off to the pub, Peggy and May walked up to the big house together, where May’s ATS friends were being put up by the major. As soon as they were out of the cottage May slipped her arm through Peggy’s.
‘I’m sorry Bill put his foot in it about Harry, Peg! Tact’s not his strong point.’
‘Don’t be sorry, May. It’s a relief just to be able to say my Harry’s name. Mum and Dad think they can ignore him. But I’m divorcing George – me and Harry’s getting married when he comes home.’
Her sister’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘Have you told George?’
Peggy shook her head. ‘Not yet, but it’s going to happen, so Mum and Dad will just have to get used to it!’
‘It’s not been easy for them. I’m surprised they came round so quickly.’
‘Well, it didn’t seem quick to me!’
May squeezed her arm. ‘I don’t know if I could’ve been so brave as you.’
‘Brave! Me? Don’t forget I was the one under George’s thumb all those years.’
‘But that’s what makes you brave! It’s not like you was ever a rebel.’
‘That’s true, but you know what Nan says – sooner or later, the worm turns. And whatever people think of me, I don’t care, I’ve got my little Pearl out of it and I would never want to be without her. But what about you and Bill? Looks like I’m not the only one’s been brave!’ Peggy laughed and nudged her sister, so that they teetered on the edge of the path.
‘Oh, Peg, I thought I’d lost him, and when I got another chance I couldn’t let him slip away again!�
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‘So tell me all about it. How did you get together?’
‘He found out from his mum that his Iris was messing about!’
Peggy made a show of being surprised, but May it seemed wasn’t fooled. ‘You knew, didn’t you! But why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Don’t jaw me. I thought you’d given up on Bill and, anyway, he might not have thanked me. But in the end I did say something – to his mother.’
May nodded her head slowly. ‘So that’s how she knew. But you’re not in trouble, Peg. Emmy heard it from her sister – it was all round Atkinson’s – and she told me what was going on. But I wouldn’t have breathed a word to Bill. Mrs Gilbie did it all for me.’
‘Thank gawd for Mrs Gilbie! You and Bill are made for each other.’
‘He’s lovely,’ her sister said dreamily, and Peggy recognized the faraway look in her eyes.
‘Do you love him?’
May dipped her head. Her sister was quick to penetrate other people’s secrets, but her own she preferred to keep safely hidden away. Peggy lifted her chin, looking into her clear eyes.
‘I thought so.’
‘I think he wants to get married,’ May said, with a soft smile.
‘Oh, May, that’s wonderful. When?’
But a troubled look passed across her sister’s face and she said, ‘Oh, nothing’s settled yet.’
As they rounded the corner, Peggy had her first sight of Angelcote House.
‘Blimey, look at the size of that! Don’t tell me Mum cleans it all on her own!’
‘She does, but a lot of the rooms upstairs are used by the army, something hush hush. They come and go by the back entrance, so they’re not much of a nuisance. Anyway, the poor old major’s brassic – he can barely afford to keep the place going.’
‘Don’t look like it to me,’ Peggy said, her gaze sweeping past the many-windowed front to the hills and fields spreading beyond the terrace wall.
‘The war’s not done him any favours, Peg. Since they’ve cut back on the racing, there’s not so much call for trainers. He still keeps as many horses as he can but he’s such an old softie, he’d rather feed them than himself. He’d starve if it wasn’t for Mum’s rabbit stew!’
Just then the owner of the house emerged, wearing his carpet slippers and a top hat. He stood on the top step, beckoning to May.
‘What d’ye think, m’dear?’
Peggy wondered if he meant the hat or the slippers. But then he spotted her.
‘Another gunner girl! Welcome to Angelcote House. Come in!’
He stood aside, allowing them to pass beneath the carved angel wings above the door and into the square, oak-panelled hall.
‘Major, this is my sister, Peggy. She’s staying with us at the cottage.’
The major shook Peggy’s hand and pointed to his top hat. From behind his back he produced another. ‘This one, or this?’ He swapped them.
‘We’ll ask Pat,’ May said, though Peggy couldn’t see much difference.
As they followed him into the house, May whispered to Peggy, ‘He likes his hats. Him and Granny Byron’d get on like a house on fire!’
Peggy laughed. He certainly had his peculiarities. But it warmed her heart to see how at home her mother was in this new life, when that evening the major insisted they all come to dinner at the house and Mrs Lloyd took command in the basement kitchen, resurrecting the large brass cooking pans that hadn’t been used in years. She commandeered the ATS girls to help, as if she were a born sergeant major. Peggy had been let off kitchen duties while she fed Pearl, but had now come in search of cutlery.
‘Not in here!’ her mother said, red in the face. ‘In the dining room, big old oak sideboard next to the fireplace.’
Peggy looked around at the girls, who all seemed to be busy.
‘You lot look organized,’ she said to May, who snorted. ‘That’s ’cause we know how to follow bleedin’ orders!’ She nodded towards her mother.
‘Look at me, the spud-bashing bride-to-be!’ Pat laughed, turning the handle on an ancient piece of kit that May had unearthed. As she fed potatoes into the wide iron funnel, blades inside the machine magically peeled the potatoes.
‘Wish we had one of those back at camp!’ Mac said, as she chopped up the peeled potatoes.
‘Too easy for the army!’ Bee told her, carefully slicing carrots.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to it,’ Peggy said, smiling.
She walked up the back stone stairs, trying to imagine living in a place like this. The old pile was draughtier than Southwark Park Road and probably almost as dilapidated. But the cottage was a different matter. Compared with the shattered streets of Bermondsey, it seemed the safest and cosiest of places for a child to grow up. Like a slow trickle of dust, she could feel her resistance giving way to resignation. Perhaps she would have to let Pearl go after all.
*
Sunshine gilded the square tower of the church and May glanced up at the clock for the third time in as many minutes. But just then she heard horses’ hooves as the trap, decked out in ribbons and flowers for the occasion, came into view. Tom helped Pat down and May arranged her dress. Then, with May holding Pat’s train, they passed between the gunner girls’ guard of honour and into the church. Following Pat up the aisle, May had an unpleasant sense of déjà vue, for her friend was wearing Peggy’s wedding dress and May the bridesmaid’s dress she’d worn for her sister’s wedding. Something borrowed, Pat certainly had that, but May could only hope she wouldn’t inherit the same shaky marriage. May forced herself to smile. She was being ridiculous, as superstitious as her nan. She caught Bill’s eye as he turned to look at her from his pew and quailed. Love had come like a sweet wave, washing away every other concern, but in the past weeks it had begun to be shot through by ripples of fear. He hadn’t actually asked her yet, but she knew he wanted to marry her. His deep blue eyes on her were full of love, and she couldn’t bear that one day soon they might be full of hurt and incomprehension.
The wedding party hadn’t been at all what May expected. The war had broken down so many barriers, even here. She couldn’t imagine such a mixed bag of people sharing in a wedding like this before the war. And no doubt it was their common cause that had cemented them. They were all, May reflected, just fighting to the death for their homes. And whether it was a brick terrace in Bermondsey, a manor house in Gloucestershire or a whole country, it was the same fight and it was always more than a matter of bricks and mortar. She knew that if Bermondsey ended up being flattened to the ground, and there was not one brick left upon another, to her it would still be home.
Outside the church, after the wedding service, Pat and Mark sat in the trap ready to be driven down to the house when, with a deliberate aim and a grin on her face, Pat threw her bouquet high in the air. May, eyesight and reflexes honed by months of predicting where a moving object would be in space if it travelled at a certain speed, automatically raised her hand, effortlessly intercepting the posy as it arced above her. Only as her fingers closed round the stems did she realize what she’d done. A cheer went up and shouts of ‘Watch out, Bill, it’ll be you next!’ came from her friends. It was the one occasion when May couldn’t rejoice at a direct hit. Bill came over to her side and kissed her, prompting another cheer. The trap jolted into motion as Pat called to her, ‘Just let me know when you need Peggy’s wedding dress back!’
Dear God, don’t let him ask me now! May prayed, for Bill’s look was one of pure adoration and if he’d got down on one knee and proposed at that moment, she doubted she would have had the strength to resist.
‘Sorry, May, but can you take her?’ Peggy, looking flustered, dumped the baby into her arms. ‘I’ve got to hurry back to the big house. Mum needs help getting the grub ready.’
‘I’ll come!’ May said hastily.
‘No, you’re more use looking after Minnie. Bill won’t mind – you’ll have to get used to all this!’ Her sister smiled at Bill, and May gritted her teeth as Peggy hu
rried away to catch a lift back to the major’s. The old boy had been beaming all day, and though he was the only member of Pat’s family there, he made up for the lack with his enthusiasm. He had insisted on hosting a dinner for Pat’s guests, so Mrs Lloyd’s services were again needed in the kitchen.
‘Looks like they’ve got us married off already!’ Bill said, dropping into step beside her as they strolled down the hill with the other guests.
May shifted the baby in her arms. ‘Oh, Bill,’ she said, ‘do you remember the last time we had to look after a baby?’
He laughed. ‘Could I ever forget it?’ He leaned in to whisper. ‘It was the day I fell in love.’
‘Shhh.’ May shot a look behind her at the girls following them.
‘They can’t hear us!’ Bill said, and it was true, for one of her friends, probably Emmy, had made a joke, and from the sound of the girls’ hoots of laughter, echoing along the lane, it was a dirty one.
‘I know you don’t want to talk about it,’ Bill said, suddenly serious.
‘About what?’
‘Us getting married.’
‘Bill! I know I’ve never had a chap, but give me credit. A girl can’t talk about anything till she’s been asked…’
But the girls had caught up with them, and Ruby said, ‘Emmy reckons the major’s sweet on your mum! What d’ye think, May?’
May raised her eyes. ‘They’re too old for all that!’
But Emmy chimed in. ‘I’m telling yer, we should be warning your old man! She’s practically moved in.’
May smiled indulgently, letting the conversation take its course, leading her away from Bill’s probing questions. At least for the moment she could avoid explaining the real reason she was reluctant to talk about marriage.