Always in my Heart

by Pam Weaver

  The nurse hesitated.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Len,’ Florrie interjected.

  ‘Just five more minutes and I’ll give you the old Florrie Jenkins back,’ Len insisted.

  A small smile edged its way onto the corners of the nurse’s mouth. ‘You’ll get me shot,’ she said. Then blushing a bright crimson, she added, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It was a slip of the tongue. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Len. ‘Five minutes?’

  She nodded and put the screen back in place.

  Len sat back down. ‘Tell me now, Florrie, and tell me everything.’

  Florrie stared at him hopelessly. ‘When Mother had Ruth,’ she began, ‘I had to go and collect her from the prison. Did you know she was in Holloway?’

  Len shook his head. ‘What did she do?’

  ‘She was accused of betraying her country,’ said Florrie. ‘But she didn’t do it.’ Len must have looked slightly sceptical because she added, ‘People always look like that when I tell them, but I know my mother and she didn’t do it!’

  ‘Then that’s good enough for me,’ Len said stoutly. ‘So while she was in prison, you were left alone with Ruth.’

  ‘I wanted to look after her,’ said Florrie, her eyes misting over again, ‘but how could I? I was sixteen, I had no job, and the landlord kicked us out when he heard what Mother had done.’

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ said Len.

  ‘That’s what Mrs Andrews said,’ said Florrie, ‘but I can’t help it. I keep wishing there could have been another way.’

  ‘Florrie, love,’ Len said gently, ‘you have to let it go.’

  ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you,’ said Florrie, her voice thick with emotion. ‘I was just scared to say the words.’

  ‘I understand that now, my lovely,’ said Len. ‘There’s no need to be scared any more.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said huskily.

  ‘Let’s leave the past in the past.’

  ‘But what am I going to do about Ruth?’

  ‘She’ll come round,’ said Len. ‘She just needs a bit of time, that’s all.’ He stood to his feet. ‘I’d better make tracks or I’ll have Matron after me.’

  She nodded, her chin quivering.

  ‘Have you seen Matron?’ He gesticulated with his hands. ‘Big woman. Big, bushy beard and all. Ten times more scary than old Hitler.’

  Despite herself, Florrie laughed.

  ‘They tell me visiting is Wednesday and Sunday,’ he went on. ‘I’ll be back on Sunday.’

  ‘Shirley and Tom are coming Sunday,’ said Florrie.

  ‘Then I’ll give Sunday a miss,’ he said.

  ‘No, no,’ she smiled. ‘I’d like to see all of you.’

  ‘And you will, my lovely, but let Sunday be for your children, eh? You haven’t seen them for so long. They deserve to have you to themselves.’

  Florrie could hardly breathe. It was happening again, wasn’t it? The brush-off. ‘But when will I see you again?’

  ‘I’ll come on Wednesday,’ he said.

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  They could hear the nurse coming back. ‘All right, then, my lovely,’ he said as he bent to kiss Florrie’s cheek. ‘See you then’ and, aware that the nurse was watching them, he added sternly, ‘And make sure you eat something, woman.’

  * * *

  On Oliver’s Farm, the main potato crop was looking good, although they had been a bit late getting it in. It was a lot of hard work, but Janet and Shirley didn’t mind spending the day in the fields when the weather was so pleasant. Whit Monday had been a complete washout. The weather was cold and wet. As it turned out, had it been fine, it wouldn’t have helped Worthing day-trippers, because the town had been declared a military area and was closed to visitors. Of course, now that the holiday was over, in typical fashion, the weather had picked up and today it was glorious. Apart from the occasional buzz from a passing bee or fly, it was very quiet. In the distance, they could hear the trains as they pulled into Angmering Station and the judder of steam as they set off again. It didn’t last long. Several fighters came roaring out of the skies to see off some German planes coming in over the Channel and a couple of times they had to dive for cover in the ditch.

  According to Seth, the second earlies would be ready for harvesting in three or four weeks’ time. Mr Oliver was due for release after six months. They had worked out that he would be back on the farm in late October, so it was possible that they could lift the main crop before he came back. Shirley had found a buyer, so they knew they could both leave with a fair bit of money – enough to keep Janet and Lucy going for a few months, and Shirley would have some money towards the extra expenses she would have, should she ever manage to get to college. The yield from the cows was up, even though they had lost two of the herd. Buttercup got an infection, and Iris sustained an injury to her leg and had to be put down. The sales of eggs, day-old chicks and six-week-old pullets brought in a healthy income. They’d rented the bottom fields out to a lady with horses, and together with the other little schemes they’d devised, they’d made a fair bit of cash. Right now, the pair of them were spraying the crop with a compound of copper to prevent fungal attacks and mould. Tomorrow, they would be dusting DDT on the cabbage field to keep down the infestation of cabbage-white caterpillars.

  Once the maincrop potatoes were lifted, Janet planned to be on her way, but although she had applied for several posts from magazine and newspaper ads, so far she hadn’t been lucky. Having Lucy with her was proving to be a problem.

  Shirley’s future looked more settled. Her mother wrote to say she was getting stronger every day and before long she would be able to go back home. That meant she and Tom would go back too. After all this lovely fresh air, Shirley didn’t relish being back in London, with its river mists and the sulphuric smog in winter, but it was better than nothing. Although she had shelved her dream of college for the time being, it hadn’t died altogether. She had passed the exam with flying colours, but her mother would need help for a while. As for Tom, he didn’t want to go back home at all. He had an easy rapport with the farm animals, especially Darby and Joan, the percherons, and they had absolute trust in him.

  The silence in the field was suddenly broken again by the sound of aircraft. Shirley stood to shield her eyes as a German plane hurtled across the almost clear blue skies with two Hurricanes in hot pursuit. They flew around each other like birds, weaving, pitching and soaring as if they were caught up in some beautifully choreographed dance, except that this one was deadly. All at once, the enemy plane began to spiral towards the ground, with thick smoke following in its wake. Shirley and Janet watched in horror as it disappeared into the distant horizon, and seconds later, they heard a deep boom and saw a cloud of black smoke coming from somewhere beyond the village.

  ‘Poor sods,’ Janet muttered.

  Shirley raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I know I should hate them,’ said Janet, ‘and I do really, but we’ve just seen somebody’s son, or brother, or husband die.’

  Shirley hadn’t thought of it like that and it was sobering. Then the two Hurricanes reappeared, obviously heading up country towards their own airfield. One swooped down low and they could clearly see the pilot waving. The two girls waved back and cheered. The pilot soared again, did a victory roll and set off to join his companion.

  ‘Are you going to the dance on Saturday?’ Janet asked.

  ‘What dance?’

  ‘Oh, Shirley,’ Janet teased, ‘do keep up. There’s one in the village hall. All the Canadians will be there, and’ – she gesticulated towards the sky – ‘maybe a few of our boys too. Granny Roberts is babysitting. I’m going. Fancy it?’

  Although Shirley felt a tingle of excitement, she shrugged her shoulders. ‘Dunno. Might do.’

  CHAPTER 25

  The night of the dance, Shirley could hear the music as she and Janet made their way across the t
riangle. A group of Canadian soldiers hung around the door, and as they parked their bicycles, they wolf-whistled before following them in. The village hall was moderately full. The girls sat on chairs round the edge. Shirley spotted her old school friends Hazel and Bobbi and went to join them. There were a few others she knew as well, girls she had seen behind the shop counter or met on the bus the few times she had been into town. Angmering was a small place where almost everybody knew everybody. The boys, mostly Canadian soldiers, stood in huddles at either end of the room.

  ‘Shirley, you look fantastic,’ said Hazel as she sat next to her.

  ‘Why, thank you,’ Shirley said teasingly. She did feel rather good. She was wearing a red and white dress that she’d picked up at a jumble sale for tuppence. When she’d bought it, it had long, tapering sleeves, and the skirt came down her to ankles. Now, it had a snugly fitting yoke with a small bow at the front. The sleeves were more fitted than before and only three-quarter-length. The material under the bust had been smocked, and the skirt, which ended at the knee, was joined to the bodice with soft pleats. Janet had picked up a bargain at the same sale. She was wearing a plain yellow dress, which she had changed by embroidering a flower motif round the neckline and down the bust. The pattern was repeated round the hem, and she had picked out the colours from a silk scarf that she had trimmed and wore as a sash round the waist. The people who had donated their dresses to the jumble sale would be hard pressed to recognize their own garments.

  The music was being played not by the usual gramophone but a three-piece band called the Scallywags. They were quite good, not only playing the old familiar tunes but some of the more modern songs too. They did the old favourites like the foxtrot, the Dashing White Sergeant, which was more like Scottish country dancing, and of course the waltz. Everyone stuck to the dance-hall tradition of three dances in a row and then a short interval when everybody cleared the floor.

  ‘Shirley, how nice to see you again.’ It was Miss Smith, her old teacher. Dressed in a pale blue sparkly top with a long chiffon skirt, her hair was piled on the top of her head, Betty Grable-style. Shirley had never seen her looking so attractive.

  ‘Miss Smith!’

  ‘Call me Marilyn,’ she said. ‘Now that you’ve officially left school, I think we should dispense with the formality, don’t you? How are you?’

  Hazel and Bobbi were invited to dance, and Janet was already on the floor. Shirley and Marilyn were alone. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Are you still at the farm?’

  Shirley nodded. ‘I shall leave after the harvest,’ she said. ‘Janet needs all the help she can get.’

  ‘Just give me a shout when the time comes,’ said Marilyn.

  An eavesdropping soldier standing next to them said, ‘Count me in to help, ma’am. My folks are farmers back home.’

  The girls laughed and Shirley accepted his offer of a dance.

  ‘I suppose you used to help on the farm when you were friends with Elizabeth,’ said Shirley when she came back to her chair.

  Marilyn Smith’s face clouded. ‘No, I didn’t do anything like that,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t let anyone help. I went there because Elizabeth needed someone to confide in.’

  ‘So you were very close,’ said Janet.

  ‘The three of us were going away together,’ said Marilyn with a sigh.

  ‘Going away?’ said Janet. ‘Where?’ But another Canadian was tugging at her arm and the next minute she was on the dance floor again. Marilyn wasn’t far behind, dancing with his pal. Three dances later, they were back together once more.

  The music started, but the three girls preferred to sit and talk. They were all feeling hot, so Janet went to get them some water. Bobbi and Hazel were at another table with some Canadians.

  ‘You were saying that the three of you were going away together,’ said Shirley. ‘Did that mean Mr Oliver was leaving the farm?’

  ‘Heavens, no!’ cried Marilyn. ‘Elizabeth hated Gilbert.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Shirley.

  ‘It was all very hush-hush,’ said Marilyn, her eyes filling with tears, ‘but Reuben, Elizabeth and I were going to South Africa.’

  Shirley’s jaw dropped. ‘So she was having an affair with Reuben Fletcher?’

  Marilyn laughed sardonically, and the dance hall cleared. Janet was back with some cups of water. ‘What have I missed?’ They arranged them on the window ledge.

  ‘Elizabeth was having an affair with Reuben,’ said Shirley.

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Janet. The music started again and several soldiers came to where they were sitting, but they stayed in their huddle.

  ‘That’s not what I said,’ Marilyn insisted.

  Janet frowned. ‘Let’s go to the cloakroom.’

  In the safety of the ladies’ cloakroom, Shirley said, ‘Are you all right? I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  Marilyn, her face slightly flushed, put up her hand. ‘You’ve got this all wrong,’ she said. ‘Elizabeth stayed faithful to that dreadful man . . .’

  ‘But you’ve just said she was running away with Reuben,’ Shirley protested.

  ‘The three of us were going together,’ said Marilyn, blowing her nose into her handkerchief. ‘Not running away. At least, I wasn’t. Reuben and I were going to get married as soon as we reached Cape Town.’

  Janet and Shirley stared at her in disbelief as all at once Marilyn began to cry. Shirley put her arm round her shoulders, and they waited for a few minutes for her to calm down.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Shirley. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘No, no,’ said Marilyn. ‘I’m all right. It’s just that I’ve held everything in for so long.’

  ‘When you’re feeling better,’ said Janet, ‘we’ll forget all this and go back in.’

  ‘I don’t mind talking about it,’ said Marilyn. ‘It’s a bit of a relief, really.’

  ‘I’m totally confused,’ whispered Shirley.

  ‘I think you’d better start from the beginning,’ said Janet.

  Although they were interrupted by the occasional girl wanting the toilet or to patch up her make-up, Marilyn carried on speaking in hushed tones, as she did her best not to weep. ‘Elizabeth and I were friends from way back. She was very unhappy. I know people said she was expecting a baby when she died, but she wasn’t.’

  ‘How do you know?’ whispered Janet.

  Marilyn waited until she was sure the toilets were empty, then leaned towards them. ‘Because she was still a virgin.’

  Janet frowned. ‘But they were married for years.’

  ‘And he never touched her,’ said Marilyn. ‘Not once.’

  The appalling shock of what she was saying wasn’t lost on Shirley, but they had to wait for someone else to come out of the cubicle.

  ‘All Elizabeth wanted was to be a mother,’ said Marilyn when they were alone again, ‘but in the whole time she was with Gilbert, she had her own bedroom and he had his. They lived completely separate lives.’

  ‘Then why marry her in the first place?’ said Shirley. ‘If he didn’t love her, why take her as his wife?’

  ‘Money,’ said Marilyn. ‘When they got married, she had quite a bit of money.’

  ‘Oh, don’t tell me,’ said Shirley angrily. ‘He took it for the farm.’

  ‘But if that farm means so much to him, you’d think he’d want a family,’ Janet mused. ‘Someone to hand it on to.’

  ‘Personally,’ said Marilyn, ‘I don’t think he knew what to do with it.’

  ‘He probably bought animal fodder or something,’ said Shirley, completely missing the point.

  As her older friends sniggered, Shirley felt her face colour. When Janet gave her a hug, she guessed that they must have been talking about having babies, so she giggled along with them rather than confess she didn’t understand.

  ‘Why didn’t she just run?’ said Janet.

  Marilyn pulled a face. ‘Anywhere in this county and he would have gone after her. South Africa wa
s too far for him to come.’

  ‘But I don’t understand why you were going in such secrecy,’ said Shirley. ‘Why didn’t you want to tell everybody? They’d have loved to have given you a good send-off.’

  ‘Reuben and I were secretly engaged,’ said Marilyn. ‘He was such a lovely man, but my parents disapproved of me, a teacher, taking up, as they put it, with a “common labourer”. They would never have sanctioned our marriage, so when we saw the wonderful opportunities in South Africa, we decided to make a completely new start.’ She wiped her eyes again and blew her nose.

  The two women looked at her. ‘I found a poster hidden in her bedroom,’ said Shirley. ‘It was all about the Dunnottar Castle from the Union-Castle Line.’

  ‘That was our ship,’ Marilyn nodded. ‘We were due to sail the day after she died.’

  ‘People say they found two tickets in Reuben’s pocket,’ said Janet.

  ‘I heard that too,’ said Shirley, ‘but nobody knew who they were for, because the water had washed away the names.’

  ‘Hers and his,’ said Marilyn, looking away sadly. ‘Reuben was looking after Elizabeth’s ticket for safety. I still have my ticket at home.’

  ‘Didn’t you think it suspicious?’ Shirley asked. ‘Her death?’

  ‘What are you saying, Shirley?’ said Janet, alarmed. ‘From what Marilyn has just said, nobody knew she was going. Why would her death be any more than a horrible coincidence?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Shirley. ‘I just thought with Reuben in the culvert and Elizabeth in the pond . . .’

  ‘To tell you the truth, I didn’t know what to think,’ said Marilyn. ‘I went all the way to Southampton on the train, but of course neither of them turned up. After that, all I cared about was that Reuben was missing. For ages I couldn’t even think straight. I did go to the police, but they didn’t think anything was wrong. They said he was a casual labourer and he must have moved on.’

  ‘How awful for you,’ said Janet.

  ‘When I came back to Angmering and heard about Elizabeth’s death, I did go and see Gilbert,’ said Marilyn. ‘He seemed to know Elizabeth wasn’t happy, but he said he’d persuaded her to give their marriage one last try. He said that the fact she was by the pond looking for bits for her Christmas wreaths proved she intended to stay.’