Sugar and Spice

by Ruth Hamilton

  Susan comes in. ‘All asleep,’ she says.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Can we have chips, Anna? It’s ages since we had a chippy meal.’

  We have one of the best fish-and-chip shops in the north-west. It’s been taken over by a lovely Greek fellow who calls himself George, and he has the sense required to ensure that his cooking fat is as hot as hell before he drops in items to be fried. That way, you don’t get as much grease clinging to the food. ‘I’ll go,’ I tell her.

  And it’s as simple as that. I buy fish and chips twice, get into my car, drive home, and a certain Mr Halliwell pulls his vehicle onto the drive behind mine. So I just carry on into the house and close the side door behind me. Shall I lock it? No. That would be infantile.

  George is generous, so there’s enough for three. We eat in the kitchen, and Alec goes on about marketing, advertising, the need for discretion. ‘We have to target the right people,’ he says. ‘And the best way is by word of mouth. So. We contact big, female bosses in the city and round here.’

  ‘I know a few teachers,’ I say. ‘And a couple of lawyers as well as associates of Den’s. How are your girls?’ I add seamlessly.

  ‘Joanna’s fine, but Sarah’s with my mother for a while. She got upset. But I’m doing my damnedest to keep her with her sister. I have a neighbour who’ll look after her when I’m at work. It’s not perfect, but—’

  ‘Living with Den and Dolores wouldn’t be perfect, either,’ I say.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ he asks.

  ‘Just the dog falling downstairs,’ Susan answers, her tone casual. ‘According to the book, she should have found her centre of gravity by now.’ Sheba walks in. The tail is wagging the dog, as she loves visitors and fish, probably in reverse order.

  Hope burns in brown, velvet eyes. But she’s had enough for today. Like Labradors, English retrievers love their food, though for some reason that remains unexplained, they don’t gain weight as fast as their Canadian cousins. ‘Right,’ I tell the others. ‘Save one flake of cod each and let it cool. She’s on a diet.’

  When the dog has inhaled the flakes from her dish, Susan declares that she is tired, so she’s off to bed. I try to glare at her, but she won’t meet my eyes. I suppose I could develop paranoia and say it’s a conspiracy, but I can’t be bothered. Dividing my time between Lottie and Emily is taking its toll. I make coffee and carry it through to the living room.

  He sits well away from me. Yet there’s no awkwardness in him, no nerves. Alec arrived in this world, claimed his space and just got on with it. He’s imaginative, but uncomplicated. ‘Well?’ he asks after a few sips of Nescafé.

  ‘Well enough. The twins tire me, but I’m OK.’

  The dog sits between us and reminds me of a spectator at Wimbledon, head turning to whichever one of us is speaking. ‘Lovely puppy,’ he remarks.

  ‘Tell that to the restorer in Liverpool – this madam ate a leg on my Victorian lady’s sewing table.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’

  I nod. ‘Very dear. Major surgery. It’s costing me an arm and two legs, one in solid walnut, I think But she can’t help it. And she’s wonderful with babies.’ No suit and tie tonight. Just jeans and a flap-about grandad shirt with no collar. Startling blue eyes, laughter-pleats at the outer corners, tanned skin, brown leather strap on the watch, a small signet ring on the little finger of his left hand.

  ‘Anna?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Was it a moment of madness?’

  I shake my head. ‘About half an hour, give or take five minutes.’

  ‘I’ve no agenda,’ he assures me. ‘You’re a beautiful woman with brain and attitude. You’ve been brave enough to get rid of your husband while your kids are young enough not to be affected. And the way you took in those people—’

  ‘They’re my friends, Alec.’

  He nods. ‘And the business you’re starting – amazing.’

  Well, that’s good. It’s pleasing to be thought of as amazing from time to time. Perhaps I’ll make him president of my fan club. ‘Maureen and Marie are in St Helens now,’ I tell him. ‘They got a house rather than a flat. Unfortunately, Mo still isn’t completely cured. She’s “borrowed” a load of cookery books from various shops, and returning them anonymously is impossible. The cops have her fingerprints, and we can’t take the risk. Too many pages to clean. Your wife’s handbag was easy in comparison.’

  He grins, and those laughter lines deepen. ‘Leopards and spots? Yet I don’t think she’ll turn out to be work-shy, Anna. They’ve never had a chance, have they?’

  ‘No.’ I tell him about Susan wanted to be a vet nurse, but Alec thinks she’ll be happy enough making puddings. ‘Let her son grow a bit, then think again,’ he advises. ‘She must walk before trying to run.’

  Silence descends on us as dusk deepens. I close curtains, switch on a couple of lamps, turn on the television for the nine o’clock news.

  ‘Anna?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s worse than I thought. I’m afraid I love you.’ His work is suffering and he isn’t sleeping properly, can’t read, can’t concentrate, can’t listen to the Carpenters. He thinks he’s going out of his mind. I think he wants me to accompany him in that direction.

  ‘I’m not ready, Alec. Not for you, not for anyone. Life needs to be uncomplicated, because I have twin babies, Susan – she’s troubled – and a business to start. Apart from all that – think about the practicalities.’

  ‘You’re talking from your head,’ he tells me.

  ‘Yes. That’s where my mouth is.’

  ‘But not from the heart.’

  It’s very difficult to keep a straight face when a small dog is turning from one to another as if trying to take in what we are saying, but I must manage this. ‘I just can’t do it,’ I say. ‘Look, I’m already with someone – sort of. It’s a colleague from work.’

  ‘Sort of?’

  I nod. Sheba gets fed up and goes to sleep. Thank goodness for small mercies. ‘I haven’t been seeing him since Lottie and Emily were born. We’ve spoken, but no more than that. Please take me seriously when I say I’m not ready. Life’s not easy for any of us, especially for those among us who’re looking after injured young mothers, dedicated shoplifters, women with alcoholic husbands, a business, a house and two children. Very small children.’

  He stands. ‘So I’m in a queue?’

  ‘Something like that. Sorry.’

  He apologizes for bothering me, says good night and walks out of the house. I feel as if some superior being has tipped me up and poured me out – like the teapot in the nursery rhyme. I have done the right thing. And I’m sure I’ll stop crying soon.

  Eight

  There were many, many full scrapbooks by the middle of 1944. Although Anna now distrusted the press because of what Uncle Bert termed propaganda, it was all she had. The wireless said the same things, and the wireless wasn’t always working, because the battery needed to be charged by a man who lived over the hill. But she was learning to sort wheat from chaff, and the map of Europe she had acquired for her bedroom wall displayed more red pins these days. The red ones were for territory occupied by the Allies, while black-headed ones showed Hitler’s conquests diminishing behind the double-edged sword of western democracy and Russian communism. It would end soon. It had to end soon.

  Anna was nine, and there was a great deal of discussion about her future. Mrs Mellor wanted to send her to a boarding school in Liverpool, but Anna put her foot down. She didn’t want to live at school. Attending on a daily basis was quite sufficient, thank you, so Bert and Elsie were pleased, since they wanted her to go to a convent grammar school in Bolton. Although she didn’t embrace wholeheartedly the thought of a return to Cross and Passionists, the Bolton school was infinitely preferable to the Liverpool option, so she agreed to sit for a scholarship, but not until she was eleven.

  ‘You’d pass now,’ the teachers told her repeatedly.

  That was al
l well and good, but Anna intended to stay with the easy life for another couple of years. There would be one year of overlap, as Rebecca and Katherine would start attending the infant department in twelve months, but that could not be helped. Five or seven years of secondary education would be quite sufficient, and she had no intention of serving extra time. Even when everyone told her she would catch up and be with older girls, she stuck to her guns. Who wanted to be with older pupils? Who wanted to be a clever clogs? She certainly didn’t.

  Things on the twins’ front had taken a sinister turn, though Anna didn’t have an ounce of tangible proof. The farm owned by the Harris family, grandparents to Linda, had lost a barn. It hadn’t been bombed, hadn’t been mislaid, of course, but it had burned to the ground. For days after the event, Kate and Beckie had huddled together, giggling and speaking their special brand of gobble-de-gook, while Anna had translated all she could manage. The Harris family had been good tenants, so good that the Mellors had allowed them to buy the farm some years earlier, and they were proud to be landed. Linda, who had come up from the south to work for them with the Land Army, was very distraught. ‘Anna – who could do a thing like that?’

  Anna shrugged and said nothing. They had new words now, and some of them were likely to be matches, burn and fire. They used language to disguise rather than to clarify a situation, and getting proof wasn’t easy. So Anna’s cutting and pasting had to be put on one side again, as she had decided to become a spy, and keeping up with them wasn’t easy.

  They were quick. They fitted into holes she could scarcely get a foot through, and she nursed a suspicion that they knew she was in pursuit of them. Furthermore, she felt that they knew that she knew that they knew – something like that – and they were taking the wee-wee out of her. This expression she had learned from Uncle Bert, who got into a great deal of trouble with Auntie Elsie when he showed off his own brand of swearing. Anna thought it was funny, although she would never, ever use those words in Elsie Dixon’s presence. But thinking them was all right.

  Lying on her belly with Uncle Bert’s binoculars held to her eyes, she watched the twins. Ah. They were playing the old game again. She leapt up, sped across a fallow field and arrived at some acres of pasture where cows grazed. Beckie and Kate, who had deliberately opened the gate, backed off as soon as their older sister appeared. Anna latched the five-bar, made sure it was safe, then caught up with her sisters. ‘It’s time you were dealt with,’ she told them. ‘And Auntie Elsie won’t do it, so it’s up to me.’

  She smacked the backs of their legs until her hand hurt, then she dragged them off home. Standing them in front of their foster mother, she told the tale. They didn’t weep, hadn’t made as much as a squeak when she had slapped them. They were tough. But so was Anna.

  ‘You shouldn’t hit them,’ said Elsie.

  ‘Really? Then who will? You tell me to keep an eye on them, and I’m supposed to control them and keep them out of trouble – how can I do that when they’re setting fire to barns?’

  A glance passed between the two younger girls, and Anna knew that she had struck gold.

  ‘They didn’t do that,’ cried Elsie. ‘It’ll be some tenant who’s jealous because the Harrises own their farm.’

  ‘It was these two,’ Anna insisted. ‘And now, they’re letting cattle loose on the roads.’ She turned to them. ‘Every cow is written down by the Ministry, every sheep, every pig. Your daddy is at war, and we have to do our bit by keeping England safe and alive with enough to eat. Do you know how much a cow is worth?’

  No reply was forthcoming.

  ‘Do you know how much a farmer pays to have a cow served by a prize bull, to get good calves?’

  Elsie blushed.

  ‘Pounds and pounds and pounds,’ Anna said. ‘And you are back to your nasty, selfish, stupid game of opening gates to let the stock out. You are naughty, disgraceful, horrible little girls. One of these days, you’ll open the wrong gate, and a bull will get you. Even a young one could turn you into mashed carrot and swede in ten seconds flat. And I, for one, will not be attending your funeral.’

  Elsie sank into a chair. ‘Anna, love . . .’

  ‘Too late, Auntie Elsie. I am telling you now that these two wicked creatures burned down the barn, and now they’re back to one of their older tricks. They do whatever they like and get away with it, and their behaviour’s getting worse, because no one does anything about it. Uncle Bert knows they’re not perfect, but he doesn’t . . . doesn’t deal with them. I shall.’ She glared at them anew. ‘Whatever you do, I’ll know about it, I’ll be there. And I’m bigger than you are.’

  Only then did a response come. ‘But there are two of us,’ Rebecca said.

  ‘Two of us,’ Katherine echoed.

  A thrill of fear passed through Anna’s body. They were four and she was nine, but the time might well come when the pair of them could defeat her physically. Mentally, they were in a class of their own – quick, self-serving and completely unconcerned for anyone but themselves. They were warning her, but she refused to let them win at this point in time. ‘Then I’ll have to make sure I have friends,’ she said coldly. ‘Friends who will beat the living daylights out of you. My mother would be ashamed of you. I’ve had enough. I’m going up to the hall to find some sensible people for a change.’ Her final remarks were awarded to Elsie. ‘You’re doing this all wrong,’ she said quietly. ‘They think they’ve been put in this world to take it over. Look at Hitler, and think of them.’

  Elsie stayed where she was for a long time after Anna had gone. The twins had disappeared upstairs, and Elsie was left feeling hollow and sick. Anna had common sense enough for an army. From the age of three or four, she had seen the world clearly, had been fluent, farseeing and exceptionally wise. But the twins had that extra edge, and at its core lay a quality harder than flint or steel. Bert wasn’t overfond of them, and he was a fair judge of character. Were they bad? Had they already committed arson?

  She needed to think about something else, something practical. Jam tarts. It would have to be plum jam, because there was a war on . . .

  ‘Sausage’ Richard Mellor was a sweet child. He had a tendency to run everywhere and, with a sense of direction that was hardly a strong point, he had a habit of bumping into things, yet he was very lovable, since he seldom complained when enduring yet another of his collisions with furniture, trees or people.

  When she arrived at the hall, Anna found herself in the corridor with a small boy wrapped around her lower half. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Where’s Mummy?’

  ‘Noo-noo,’ he replied. Oo had been his first vowel sound, so his grandmother was Noo-noo, and everyone thought that was charming. ‘Mummy wiv Noo-noo and man,’ he told her.

  Linda, who looked very harassed, appeared in the office doorway. ‘Keep him,’ she said. ‘The doctor’s here.’

  Anna noticed that Linda’s hair was all over the place, and Linda had never tolerated untidy hair. ‘I will,’ she replied. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Most definitely not,’ answered Linda before disappearing into the office.

  Anna took Richard out onto the lawn, where he pretended to be an aeroplane. He was capable of pretending to be an aeroplane for minutes on end, though his flying machine would move only in circles, so the resulting dizziness caused a hiatus from time to time.

  Linda came out and sat on one of the stone steps. After staring at her revolving son for a while, she joined Anna.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked the nine-year-old.

  ‘I don’t know the name of it. But she’s using all the wrong words, can’t remember what happened yesterday or even half an hour ago, and she’s getting angry and falling asleep.’

  Anna swallowed hard.

  ‘She went out a couple of days ago,’ Linda continued. ‘Came back with some holly to decorate the house . . .’

  ‘But it’s not Christmas.’

  ‘I know that, Anna, and you know that. The worst thing was, she sa
id she’d been to Africa for it.’

  ‘Africa? Do they have holly in Africa?’

  Linda wasn’t sure. ‘She didn’t like me at first, you know. Thought I was too old for Roger and that he was too young for marriage. Then we got close, especially after Sausage was born. She’s been good to me in her way. But over these past few months, she’s been getting vague. Sometimes, she seems not to recognize me. Recent days have been the worst. It’s a nightmare.’

  ‘Well, I hardly know you today, because your hair’s loose instead of in your usual victory roll.’

  Linda smiled, but her eyes remained clouded. ‘We’re losing her,’ she whispered. ‘It’s galloping right through her brain.’

  ‘Not dying?’ Anna’s eyes were round.

  ‘Just in her head, sweetheart. The body works, walks about, sits, stands, lies down. She hasn’t a lot of staff, because many have joined up, but those who are here are having one hell of a time. She needs dressing.’ A tear crawled down one of Linda’s cheeks. ‘She . . . sometimes, she soils or wets herself.’

  ‘But she can’t help it,’ said Anna.

  ‘No, she can’t. But will you help me? I know you’re just a child, but you’re sensible, and school is closed for the next few weeks.’

  ‘You know I will.’ It would mean that she could not be as vigilant as necessary when it came to her twin sisters, but Anna had a strong sense of loyalty and the ability to prioritize. This was an emergency. If poor Mrs Mellor was going crackers, Anna would be there, because Linda had Sausage to mind, while the staff needed to keep clean the rooms that were used, had to cook and do washing, shopping, and a million other tasks.

  ‘The doctor’s going to try to get us a nurse. There aren’t a lot to spare, but he’ll do his best. Oh, you can talk to Elsie and Bert, because I know they’ll want to do their bit. But no one else, Anna. Tell Elsie and Bert that nobody else should be informed. They’ll all notice soon enough, anyway. This hall is the centre in our little area. The family’s important and has its pride.’ And she couldn’t tell Roger. If he knew, he might worry, lose concentration and die.