GI Brides: The Wartime Girls Who Crossed the Atlantic for Love

by Barrett, Duncan; Calvi, Nuala

  The letter was about a new local club called Wise Wives that the Red Cross was starting for GI brides from England, Australia, New Zealand and Canada. Their first meeting was coming up, and they had written to all the local brides whose addresses they had.

  Lyn’s heart leaped at the thought of finally making some friends in America and spending time with English people.

  When Ben arrived later, the three of them settled down to Auntie Louise’s delicious dinner, which was some consolation to him after yet another day of fruitless job-hunting. Once Louise left, Ben suggested they go out for a drive in the mountains.

  As they drove, Lyn told Ben about the bean explosion, which now seemed quite funny. She had been chattering away for several minutes before she realised that Ben hadn’t said a word. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I prattle on.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said, his voice choked. ‘If you didn’t, I wouldn’t know what to do right now.’

  Lyn looked at him and saw there were tears in his eyes. Ben must be almost at breaking point, she realised.

  As time went on, life in the shack only seemed to get harder. Soon Ben and Lyn were falling behind on the rent, and the landlord was threatening eviction. Ben had to go cap in hand to Uncle Tony to borrow money.

  Meanwhile, Lyn was feeling increasingly exhausted and kept throwing up. She thought she might have stomach flu, and went to see a doctor.

  ‘Well, you don’t have stomach flu, Mrs Patrino,’ the doctor told her. ‘You’re pregnant.’

  ‘I can’t be!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘My husband doesn’t have a job.’

  ‘Maybe you should have thought of that before,’ the man said unsympathetically.

  When she saw Ben again, Lyn felt terrible saddling him with more bad news. The two of them could barely cope up in the mountains – how could they take care of a baby?

  ‘We’ll work it out,’ Ben said. He put his arms around his wife and held her tight.

  But not everyone in the family took the news so well. Lyn’s sister-in-law Thelma reported that Mrs Patrino had complained, ‘Oh great, now we’ll never get rid of her.’

  Amid the worry about the baby, Lyn almost forgot the Red Cross meeting, but when the appointed day came she was determined to give it a go. Ben dropped her off at the YWCA, and Lyn followed a sign for the Wise Wives club. Inside, a group of wives were listening while an Englishwoman instructed them on the best way to make traditional cucumber sandwiches. ‘It’s very important the cucumber is paper thin,’ the woman was saying as she demonstrated her deft slicing technique. Much discussion followed on how to avoid a soggy sandwich, and soon the women were putting their theories to the test.

  Lyn marvelled at the sound of English voices filling the room. As they ate the sandwiches they had made, tea was poured from large teapots – and to her delight it was the proper stuff, not made with a bag.

  The women soon found they had more in common than just a fondness for tea. Many of their husbands, like Ben, didn’t have jobs, and a lot of them were finding it a challenge fitting into their partner’s families.

  ‘My mother-in-law thinks I’m not clean,’ admitted one girl, bashfully.

  ‘Mine thinks I should shower every day!’ Lyn responded. ‘She’s fanatical!’

  She soon gravitated towards a woman called Leslie, a smartly dressed, fair-haired GI bride from Canada whose rounded tummy announced that, like Lyn, she was pregnant. Lyn admitted that she was worried about having a baby when Ben had no job.

  ‘Maybe I can help you,’ Leslie told her. ‘My husband’s setting up a new business and I know he’s looking to take someone on.’

  Lyn’s eyes lit up. ‘That would be wonderful,’ she replied.

  The job turned out to be the lifeline Ben and Lyn had been waiting for. Leslie’s husband Joe had set up a company repairing carburettors, and after a brief interview he agreed to hire Ben on the spot. Ben proved himself a hard worker and was soon indispensable to the business, and before long he and Lyn had saved enough to move out of the cabin.

  They started looking for an apartment downtown, and to their delight the first place they saw was perfect. It was on the third floor of a beautiful old house, overlooking the high street. But the landlady had two strict conditions. ‘I only rent to people who keep house perfectly, and who don’t have children,’ she said.

  To the woman’s astonishment, Lyn began to cry. ‘What’s wrong, dear?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m a rotten housekeeper,’ Lyn sobbed.

  ‘Well, don’t worry about that,’ she replied. ‘At least you don’t have children!’

  ‘That’s just it. I’m pregnant as well!’

  Seeing Lyn’s tears, the landlady’s heart melted. She took pity on Ben and Lyn and decided to rent them the apartment anyway. Before long they were making it their own.

  Despite Lyn’s former resistance towards housekeeping, she was so grateful to be in a proper apartment rather than a shack that she found it brought out her domestic side, and soon she was happily spending her hours reading recipe books and tuning in to cookery programmes on the radio.

  Although relations with Ben’s parents remained frosty, he and Lyn continued to see a lot of Auntie Louise, so Lyn thought nothing of it when Ben announced they were going to her house for dinner one evening.

  When they pulled into Louise’s driveway, however, Lyn spotted her mother-in-law’s car. ‘She’s not coming, is she?’ Lyn asked, panicked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ben replied, a little awkwardly.

  Lyn noticed the road outside was unusually parked up as well. ‘There’s Thelma’s car, and Auntie Nancy’s and Auntie Catherine’s. It’s looks like they’re having a party and didn’t bother to tell us!’

  Lyn refused to go inside, but Ben tried his best to persuade her. ‘Please, Lyn, just do it for me,’ he begged.

  Eventually she agreed, and they knocked on the door. As soon as it opened, Auntie Louise pulled her into the living room, and dozens of people suddenly emerged shouting, ‘Shower!’

  Lyn was utterly confused. ‘What’s going on?’ she said.

  ‘Don’t you know what a shower is?’ asked Auntie Catherine.

  ‘When it rains?’ Lyn replied.

  ‘There’s she goes again, being a smart alec,’ said Mrs Patrino, rolling her eyes.

  ‘It’s for you, honey, because you’re having a baby,’ Auntie Louise explained. ‘We thought it would be a nice surprise, to remind you how much we all care about you.’

  Lyn barely had a chance to respond before the aunties were gathered round, cooing over her bulge and making proclamations about the sex of the baby. Lyn was inundated with gifts of baby clothes and toys, all of which were held up so the women could coo over them too. It was one of the most bizarre American rituals she had come across, Lyn decided. But they had all been incredibly generous – even Mrs Patrino – and on the drive home she had to admit to Ben that it hadn’t gone too badly.

  Although seeing Ben’s mother at the shower had been a shock, Lyn felt that now she and Ben had their own apartment, she wanted to prove she was not the hopeless wife Mrs Patrino had accused her of being. Ben’s parents agreed to come round for dinner, and Lyn pored over her cookery books, perfecting her French onion soup and sirloin steak with mashed potatoes and asparagus. It would be classy but simple – without a single garlic bulb in sight.

  When the guests arrived, Lyn played the perfect hostess. As she opened the door to Ben’s parents, she could see Mrs Patrino’s eyes giving the place the once over. But she had made sure that every surface was dusted and polished until it shined.

  They took their seats at the dining table and Lyn announced the menu. She thought she saw Mrs Patrino’s eyebrow raise a little at the mention of French onion soup, but she remained silent.

  The bowls came out and Ben’s parents gingerly slurped their soup. They had reason to be cautious, remembering Lyn’s almost-raw chicken and toot
h-breaking corn on the cob. But after a few moments, Ben’s father emitted a satisfied ‘Mmmm’.

  Mrs Patrino looked round at him in surprise, and he quickly covered his mouth with his napkin. But she didn’t make any complaints.

  To their relief, the sirloin steak was well cooked, and Lyn’s asparagus was particularly tasty. ‘This is good,’ Mrs Patrino said quietly.

  It was the slightest of compliments, but to Lyn it meant everything. Ben might not have married a ‘nice Italian girl’, but Lyn had proved that his English bride wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

  Lyn felt relieved that her relationship with Ben’s mother was now cordial, even if they were not the best of friends. But one day, Mrs Patrino called her, sounding agitated. ‘Come over, please,’ she demanded. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  Lyn’s heart sank. ‘What do you think it’s about?’ she asked Ben.

  He shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

  Lyn turned up at the Patrino house, and found her mother-in-law waiting for her.

  ‘Sit down,’ she told her. ‘Now, did you say I was jealous over my sons?’

  ‘What?’ Lyn said, taken aback.

  ‘Did you say I was jealous?’ Mrs Patrino repeated.

  ‘No!’ Lyn said. But then she thought back over the many conversations she’d had with Thelma over the washing up. Had her sister-in-law betrayed her confidence?

  ‘Well, actually, I did say something like that,’ Lyn admitted.

  ‘I don’t understand you – cutting me behind my back!’ Mrs Patrino cried.

  ‘Well,’ Lyn said, ‘if the person telling you this is who I think it is, she’s also telling me what you say about me.’

  Suddenly, Mrs Patrino looked less sure of herself.

  But Lyn was gaining confidence. ‘Didn’t you say you’d never get rid of me when you found out I was pregnant?’

  Mrs Patrino couldn’t deny it, and for a moment she was speechless. Then, she suddenly reached out and hugged Lyn.

  Lyn couldn’t quite believe it, but she put her arms around her in return.

  ‘Thank you for your honesty,’ Mrs Patrino said.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Lyn replied, and made a hasty getaway before her mother-in-law could change her mind.

  Despite what she had said when Lyn was pregnant, when baby John was born Mrs Patrino and her husband proved to be doting grandparents. For the first year of John’s life, Lyn was happy to play mum and housewife in her new apartment, but as time drew on she began to feel restless. Having perfected her cooking, cleaning now became her new obsession, and she spent so many hours washing, scrubbing and polishing that even Mrs Patrino’s floors couldn’t have competed. Ben finally told her it was driving him crazy, and it was clear that Lyn needed to get out of the house more.

  She saw that the University of Santa Clara were hiring and went along for an interview. ‘There are two positions vacant,’ the interviewer, Mr Stefan, told her. ‘One is for a receptionist and the other is for a secretary to the priest here, Father Donnalan. Which would you prefer? I have to warn you, the priest has been known to make people cry.’

  But having handled the mother of all mother-in-laws, Lyn knew she could deal with anyone. ‘I’ll take the secretary job,’ she said firmly.

  The university gratefully assigned Lyn to the gruff Father Donnalan – who never managed to reduce Lyn to tears.

  Lyn realised she was pretty lucky. Things were improving with her husband’s family, she and Ben both had decent jobs and they were blessed with a beautiful baby boy. After everything that had gone wrong in her first couple of years in America, life really seemed to be getting back on track.

  One night, Lyn and Ben decided to see an English movie in Palo Alto, having left little John with his grandparents. It was nice to spend an evening together just the two of them, but all through the film Lyn was distracted by a pain in her head and neck.

  ‘Do you think it’s a migraine?’ Ben asked her as they drove back to get John.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Lyn replied. ‘Maybe I’m coming down with the flu.’

  When they got home she went straight to bed, but the next morning she was still in pain and decided to call in sick at work. When Ben phoned at lunchtime to see how she was doing, she told him she hadn’t yet got out of bed. ‘This doesn’t sound right,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to come home and take you to the doctor.’

  Lyn was too exhausted to argue. ‘I’ll just have a quick bath first,’ she said.

  She dragged herself out of bed, but walking along the corridor her legs suddenly gave out from under her and she fell to the floor. Something is very wrong, she thought, as she hauled herself up and very slowly made her way to the bathroom.

  The heat of the bath felt blissful as Lyn lowered herself into it, even though her head and neck were still hurting. But when she pulled the plug and tried to get out, she found she didn’t have the strength to stand. It was like her legs just wouldn’t do what she told them.

  Lyn managed to heave herself out of the tub by her arms, and lay panting on the bathroom floor in a pool of water. When Ben found her there, he was horrified. ‘Oh my God, what’s the matter, Lyn?’ he said anxiously.

  ‘I just couldn’t get up,’ Lyn said helplessly. ‘My legs really hurt.’

  Ben helped her get dressed and carried her out to the car, then drove her straight to the doctor’s surgery.

  In the waiting room, a nurse took Lyn’s temperature. ‘Not too high,’ she told her with a smile, although beneath it Lyn could tell she was worried. ‘But I don’t think you should be out here. Let’s get you in to see the doctor right away.’

  She took hold of one of Lyn’s arms and Ben took the other, and between them they helped her into the doctor’s room.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ the doctor asked, pulling up a chair in front of Lyn and looking into her eyes.

  ‘Terrible,’ she told him.

  ‘Well, you don’t look sick,’ he replied. ‘Can you can stand?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. She tried to force herself up from her chair but fell forward into the doctor’s arms. ‘Good try, Lyn,’ he told her. ‘You can rest now.’

  As he lowered her back into her chair, she caught Ben’s eye and saw that he was as terrified as she was.

  The doctor applied some pressure to Lyn’s neck, pushing her head forward a little, and she gasped in pain.

  ‘Okay, just one more test,’ he said, reaching for a small reflex hammer.

  He lifted one of Lyn’s legs and crossed it over the other. Then he tapped her knee with the hammer. Nothing happened.

  He crossed her knees the other way and repeated the test, but again there was no response. ‘Good God,’ he said. ‘I think it’s polio. We need to get you into isolation right away.’

  Lyn stared at him in disbelief, struggling to take in what he was saying.

  Ben was on his feet at once. ‘Shall I call an ambulance?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ the doctor replied, ‘we don’t have time. I want you to take her straight to the hospital – she could need an iron lung at any minute.’

  25

  Sylvia

  Although he had been gambling while Sylvia was in labour, Bob proved to be a very proud father. He was over the moon at having a son, and Sylvia hoped it would spur him on to stop gambling and save up the money for a deposit on an apartment so that they could move out of his parents’ house.

  Meanwhile, now that she had brought a new grandchild into the family, Sylvia felt she had more to contribute to conversations around the dinner table. She had always been quite shy, unable to join in with talk about Leo and Bob’s work at the post office, or the goings-on of all Mrs O’Connor’s relatives. But now she could chat about baby Barry’s latest developments – his first tooth or his attempts to crawl – and she didn’t feel like such an outsider.

  She was also hoping that the new arrival would soften her father-in-law’s heart and stop him ignoring her, making snide remarks
and letting doors slam in her face. To begin with, Mr O’Connor seemed to take quite an interest in the baby, and he joined in with all the other family members who came round to dote on him. But it wasn’t long before his old jealousy reared its ugly head once more. By the time Barry was old enough for a playpen, Mr O’Connor took to simply ignoring him, just as he had Sylvia, walking straight past as if he wasn’t there.

  Perhaps he saw the child as an affront to his vanity, thought Sylvia. He was a handsome man, and he didn’t even like anyone at the post office to know that his son worked there, fearing it would make him seem old, so she was sure that he wouldn’t want anyone to know that he was a grandfather. He had stormed out in a rage one day when Sylvia tried to teach the baby to call him Granddad.

  Sylvia was becoming increasingly desperate for her and Bob to move out, but her hopes that little Barry’s arrival would curb her husband’s gambling seemed to have been misplaced. The card-playing in the basement still continued every weekend, and while she stayed at home with the baby, he would go off for games at his Uncle John’s, sometimes not coming home until the early hours. Meanwhile, the family continued to bet on the horses every week, encouraging Bob to do the same, and Sylvia frequently found the money in their little savings tin raided to fund his flutters. When she tried to talk to him about it, he simply grumbled and walked off.

  As Barry grew older, Mr O’Connor’s behaviour towards him only worsened. At eleven months, Barry started to toddle, and one day, seeing his granddad in the room, began wobbling over towards him, his little chubby hands outstretched. Mr O’Connor stood there until the child had almost reached him and then, at the last moment, stepped aside so that Barry fell over. Sylvia witnessed the incident, but told herself that it must have just been a mistake. Perhaps Mr O’Connor wasn’t very good with children.

  But a few days later the same thing happened again. This time Barry began to cry, and his grandfather laughed at him. Sylvia’s heart filled with a mother’s rage and, uncharacteristically, she confronted her father-in-law. ‘You can’t let a child fall over like that!’ she told him.