Keep the Home Fires Burning

by S Block

  Boris was almost beside himself to see Teresa, though his age made expressing delight increasingly limited. He could no longer jump up. His tail couldn’t wag in the same sweeping arc, but vibrated stiffly from side to side. Yet the old dog’s eyes shone with recognition and pleasure when he saw Teresa, even if she had once nearly killed him by allowing him to slip his lead and run into a road.

  Alison watched Teresa prepare supper with a mixture of amusement and pride. She was clearly working hard to get to grips with the domestic duties of married life. She had made a Woolton pie, and took it steaming out of the oven, humming the irritating ditty the Ministry of Food broadcast regularly to popularise the dish.

  The inanity of the tune annoyed Alison almost as much as its capacity to stay in her head, no matter how hard she tried to expunge it from her memory. By way of protest she resolved to never make the pie herself, though she would, of course, eat Teresa’s.

  ‘You certainly seem to be taking to married life. You scarcely cooked at all with me. But here you are. Pinny. Oven mitts. Spatula. A changed woman.’

  Teresa smiled appreciatively.

  ‘It was either resisting it or rolling up my sleeves and getting stuck in,’ Teresa explained. ‘Especially with the cooking. I grew up with my father knocking my mother every teatime because she couldn’t cook. I don’t want Nick to dread meals.’

  ‘Was your mother’s food really as bad as your father made out?’ Alison asked, as Teresa placed a plate of Woolton pie in front of her.

  Teresa nodded. ‘Terrible in every way. He used to say she was preparing him for life in prison.’

  ‘Well, good for you for making the effort to learn to cook.’

  ‘Oh, my mother could cook.’

  ‘But you just said— ’

  ‘I said her food was terrible, which it was. But one day I came back from school and she’d cooked this amazing tea for us all. A very elaborate fish dish with beautiful vegetables, and a wonderful pudding that melted in your mouth. We were all amazed. My father was stunned into silence. She looked at us after we’d finished this wonderful banquet and said, “I just wanted you to know I can do it. When I want to. I just don’t want to.’’’

  Alison nearly fell off her chair with laughter. Even Boris lifted his grey head and seemed to raise his top lip to reveal a line of smiling, yellowing teeth.

  ‘She never made that – or anything approaching it – again. Next day we went right back to the rubbish.’

  ‘What did your father do?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘He didn’t try and cook himself?’

  ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

  After supper, they sat in the front room with cups of tea and Alison quizzed Teresa about how she was finding other aspects of married life. She was pleased to hear that Teresa wanted to be as good a wife to Nick as he was a husband to her. She hadn’t found living with a man easy, but she knew from experience that Alison wanted to hear that everything was going swimmingly, so that’s what she told her.

  ‘What most worries me is having to give up my job,’ Teresa said.

  ‘Do you have to?’

  ‘I’m expected to give way to a man now I have another “job”. I’d never thought of being married in those terms.’

  ‘But you can see why they think like that.’

  ‘They don’t ask men to do the same.’

  ‘Men don’t have the task of running the household.’

  ‘No. But I don’t understand why it can’t be left to individual women if they want to maintain a career after marriage. Some will want to, some won’t. But making it compulsory to retire when you get married seems terribly unfair. Not to mention a dreadful waste of talented, dedicated teachers. It’s not a rule that’s applied completely across the board. But it is here.’

  ‘But you are still teaching.’

  ‘Until they find someone suitable.’ Teresa paused, clearly saddened by the inevitable prospect of having to give up her vocation. ‘Someone with a penis.’ She looked at Alison and smiled, not wanting the mood to drop.

  ‘I’m hoping it will take them a while to find someone.’

  ‘Nick hasn’t asked you to give it up?’

  ‘Not at all. He loves hearing about the children when he comes home from the station. At first, I thought it kept him connected to what they’re all fighting for. Then I realised he just enjoys hearing all the barmy things they say and do. It takes his mind off everything for a few minutes.’

  ‘How long do you realistically think you can stay in post?’

  ‘It’s entirely out of my hands. Of course, I’d have to leave if we start a family of our own.’

  Alison raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  ‘If?’

  ‘I mean, when.’

  Teresa chatted amiably about how much she was looking forward to having children in the house. Not only for Alison’s benefit. Teresa did want children, though she was anxious about how much of her life might consequently change. She was gradually reconciling herself to everything that came with married life, and was sensibly taking things one step at a time.

  ‘For the first few weeks I tried to be the greatest wife in the history of the institution of marriage. I nearly had a breakdown. And I think Nick became genuinely scared. Then he told me over supper one evening that he didn’t know what he was doing either, so we both calmed down and agreed not to panic. Everything’s been much better since. We’ve taken the time to get to know one another.’

  ‘And is there more to the wing commander than initially met the eye?’

  ‘So much more. Such a wonderful man, Alison. And properly funny. We laugh a lot. It’s perfect.’

  Nearly. But for . . . That, and the pressure to constantly maintain the façade in front of everyone. Everyone except for ‘she who cannot be named’, or so much as thought about, even casually. She who must be avoided at all costs, lest I slip up.

  As the evening continued, their conversation ranged over many issues. But as the fire petered out in the grate, Teresa became determined to address one issue in particular.

  ‘Please come back to the WI. You’re greatly missed.’

  Alison looked into the dying flames in the hearth and fell silent for a moment.

  ‘It’s difficult . . .’

  Teresa knew Alison had fallen out with Frances, but was unaware of the details.

  ‘Is it not possible to patch things up?’

  Alison looked at Teresa, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

  ‘The details are not mine to reveal, but I have been treated very badly. I don’t think I’m one to harbour a grudge. But neither will I be walked over.’

  ‘But you must miss it.’

  ‘Of course. Every aspect. But just as how long you’ll continue to teach is out of your hands, so is how long I’ll keep my distance from Fr— from the WI.’

  Teresa was running out of arguments. Without knowing exactly what had passed between Alison and Frances she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Alison’s sensitivity about the matter was evident. Yet Teresa didn’t want to give up without exploring every possibility.

  ‘The branch is going to try and help the trekkers in some way. You’d be so brilliant at organising something. Surely, your sense of duty—’

  Alison’s eyes widened so quickly at Teresa’s mention of the word that the younger woman immediately stopped talking.

  ‘No one, not even you, who I value as one of my closest friends, need question my sense of duty, Teresa. Believe me, I’d be better off without one. Far better off.’

  She glanced at her watch and stood up in a single, determined movement.

  ‘I’d better get Boris back.’

  Teresa leapt to her feet to try to placate her.

  ‘Please don’t go. If I said the wrong thing—’

  ‘You didn’t. You didn’t . . . but the longer he lies in one position the more his back legs seize up . . .’

  Teresa didn’t believe for a moment that
Alison was leaving for the sake of the dog, but was unwilling to challenge her.

  How deep does it go between her and Frances? I had no idea. Let her go. Don’t make things worse between us.

  ‘If I’ve put my foot in it, I’m sorry.’

  ‘You haven’t. On one level, the situation is terribly simple. Frances and I have got ourselves in such a terrible mess that I don’t know if we’re able to get ourselves out.’

  ‘Surely, in time . . . ?’

  ‘Time, yes. The Great Balm. But some things cannot be forgiven. Some words are impossible to forget.’

  Alison crouched to put the lead onto Boris’s collar, then stood up and smiled with great fondness at the blossoming younger woman before her.

  ‘I’ve had a lovely evening with you. I am so thrilled to see you doing so well with Nick, I cannot tell you. So thrilled.’

  Teresa smiled, pleased with Alison’s accolade.

  If she thinks I’m carrying it off then I must be.

  Teresa hugged Alison and immediately thought she had lost some weight since the wedding, when they had last hugged one another. Even through her coat, Teresa could feel the bones of Alison’s spine and ribs. She knew Alison was sensitive, and took things terribly to heart. Isolation wasn’t good for her, it allowed her too much time to turn inwards.

  ‘Please just think about returning to the WI. I’ll fight anyone you want on your behalf. Just point them out and I’ll take them on. I’m your girl. You know that.’

  Teresa felt Alison’s hands squeeze her a little more tightly around her back.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and turned and led Boris out of the house, into the cold, dark, blacked-out night.

  An hour after Alison’s somewhat sudden, if not awkward, departure, Teresa was finishing washing up the pots and dishes from supper when she heard the familiar sound of Nick’s car coming to rest outside the front door. Though she had worked hard at school all day, she nevertheless felt guilty if Nick came home in the evening to find her reading, or dozing in an armchair. She suspected it was because Nick’s work dealt in life and death, though she knew it was nonsensical to compare educating children with fighting the Luftwaffe. She had tried to understand what it must be like for Nick and his men. Most people would never have to fight for their survival in the entire course of their lives. Nick and his team had to do it daily. Kill or be killed. The pressure seemed almost inhuman.

  He’s been working hard. I want him to find me working hard at making the house clean and tidy for when he returns. It’s what a good wife does.

  Nick didn’t have to articulate how exhausted he was when he came into the kitchen. The moment Teresa turned round she could see it in his eyes. They were red and a little puffy, and his tie was loose in his collar. She suspected he may have stopped the car on the way home and wept, as he told her he did sometimes when he’d lost pilots in combat. He stopped before reaching home because he felt it unfair to bring his feelings of anger and despair back with him. It made no difference if he was flying with them or not. He would sit in the control tower during their sorties, and listen in to their communications with one another and Tabley Wood.

  Teresa could tell immediately that he had lost some that night.

  ‘How many?’ she asked.

  Nick looked at her, wondering how to turn statistics into meaningful words. Finally, he managed to speak.

  ‘Two definite. But we think a third. We don’t know for certain.’

  During their short time together, Teresa had learned that only silence failed to make these moments worse. Her husband was a man who routinely sent ridiculously brave teenage boys to their deaths in machines they barely had time to master. He routinely listened over the radio as they were shot or burned to death. Teresa softly crossed the kitchen floor and held him.

  ‘My love . . .’ she whispered in his ear.

  Nick wrapped his arms around her, and clung on tightly, as if Teresa was the physical embodiment of his own sanity. This was how he came back to her after a wretched night’s work. She closed her eyes and waited for the final large sigh from deep within her new husband, signalling that decompression had taken place and he was finally back in Great Paxford, with her.

  ‘How would you feel about a party?’ he asked quietly.

  The incongruity took her by surprise, as he had planned. It was Nick’s way of forcing himself back into the blissful mundanity of ordinary life.

  ‘What – now?’ Teresa tried unsuccessfully to mask the panic in her voice. She wasn’t sure what he was asking, and for a fleeting moment wondered if spontaneous dining with hitherto unknown (and uninvited) guests was a feature of married life that she hadn’t been warned about. She felt Nick’s body begin to shake within her embrace.

  Is he crying or laughing? I daren’t look.

  Nick gently pulled away from Teresa’s arms and looked at her with a broad grin on his face.

  ‘Yes, I’d like you to whip up food for nine to be ready in about twenty-five minutes. I know it’s rather short notice, but a woman of your culinary expertise—’

  ‘One more word and I’ll try and do it, and then I’ll make you eat whatever I produce.’

  She smiled and kissed his lips. He tried to respond but she could tell his heart wasn’t in it, and didn’t press him.

  ‘Assuming not tonight, then when?’

  ‘My new group captain is taking up his post in two weeks. I thought it might be politic and welcoming to invite him and his wife for lunch.’

  ‘A group captain and his wife?’

  ‘If you think you’re up to it. If not, we can always ask them at a later date.’

  ‘Of course I’m up to it. I think. What shall I cook?’

  ‘Whatever you like. On second thought . . . why don’t you ask some of your more experienced friends what they might cook?’

  ‘Are you trying to be offensive?’

  ‘Why go to all the effort of trying to make something up, when friends will no doubt have a range of dinners up their sleeves for any occasion.’

  ‘I won’t let you down, I promise.’

  ‘You couldn’t.’

  ‘We both know that’s not true.’

  Nick took off his jacket and hung it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He stretched out his arms, rested his head back on the axis of his neck, and closed his eyes. Teresa recognised this was how he started to unwind at the end of particularly stressful days.

  ‘I’m assuming you ate at the mess?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ He opened his eyes and looked at her, yawned, and then said, ‘I was thinking of also asking Annie . . .’

  Teresa suddenly felt her body freeze from head to toe.

  ‘Annie?’

  She tried to sound nonchalant, as if Nick could have said any name and it would have held as little interest. But he hadn’t said any other name. He’d said that one. The one she had avoided saying since Annie was last at the house.

  ‘By all accounts the GC is something of a bore. Annie is a brilliant social lubricant when you’re up against a really stuffed shirt.’

  Teresa’s mind started to race.

  On no account can she come. I’ve gone out of my way to keep my distance from Tabley Wood, the Black Horse – anywhere our paths might cross.

  ‘What do you think?’

  I think NO.

  ‘I think . . . isn’t the form of these occasions that it’s . . . well . . . couples?’

  Nick looked at her wearily.

  ‘Perhaps for a dinner, but we don’t have to be so hidebound for a lunch, surely? Besides, I want you and Annie to get to know one another. I know you’d be great friends. She likes you enormously.’

  ‘Does she?’

  ‘She told me that of all her married male friends, you’re her favourite “wife”.’

  Please stop this. Just tell him she can’t come. You’re the mistress of the house. Make a stand. For everyone’s sake.

  ‘I like her enormously too, but—’
/>   ‘One more place around the table is hardly going to break you, darling. I have every confidence in you.’

  He kissed her forehead as if to settle the matter.

  ‘Have the same confidence in yourself.’

  If I keep on, it will look suspicious.

  ‘I need a drink,’ Nick said. ‘Perhaps two. Would you like one?’

  ‘No. Thanks. Alison came over.’

  He was already out of the room before she’d finished the sentence.

  ‘Oh? How was that?’ he called back, from the front room.

  ‘Fine. She’s— It’s difficult to tell with her. She’s such a closed book much of the time. Actually, that’s not strictly accurate. She’s like a book whose pages won’t open easily.’

  By the sound of clinking glass and lack of a response, Teresa could tell Nick was no longer listening. But neither was she interested in continuing to speak. She stood in middle of the kitchen in her apron, thinking about lunch with Nick’s new group captain and his wife. And the one woman in the area to whom she was maddeningly attracted.

  I’ll leave her a note at the station telling her to decline the invitation. Too complicated. It could go awry and Nick might find out. Why does everything have to become difficult? Why can’t we just live our lives? Why must something always muddy the water?

  Nick reappeared in the doorway holding two glasses of Scotch, both his.

  ‘Chicken!’ he said, beaming. ‘Make chicken. Everyone likes chicken. It’s difficult to mess up chicken. Not even—’ He stopped himself, but not in time.

  Teresa smiled a thin, resigned smile, and thought of her mother. She wanted the entire event scrapped here and now, but knew she couldn’t insist on it. The idea of having to produce a faultless, multi-course culinary display for Nick’s new boss and the effortlessly perfect Annie filled her with utter horror. Yet her smile remained.

  ‘If it’s chicken you want, darling, it’s chicken we shall have.’

  Chapter 40

  After making a more abrupt exit from her evening with Teresa than she would have liked, Alison was in no great hurry to return to her small, dark, empty cottage. Besides, it was around this time that she habitually took Boris out to undertake his ablutions before bed, so ambling around the village lanes at this hour was not unusual for either of them. Since Alison had exiled herself from her beloved WI, she relished any opportunity to be out of her house, even if the rest of the world was fast asleep. In fact, more so, as she still carried what she felt was an almost visible taint of shame from the factory fiasco, and preferred to avoid people as much as possible. It was this that prompted her to walk out of the village, into the surrounding countryside, even at this late hour. This, and a curiosity to see for herself the extent of the trekker issue around Great Paxford.