Sing Them Home

by Pam Weaver

  ‘It’s her!’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Marion, curling her lip. ‘Just look at her. All dolled up like a dog’s dinner, cocky cow.’

  ‘Typical,’ her mother scoffed. ‘Well, I wouldn’t give you tuppence to listen to her.’

  ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’

  Her mother gave her a blank stare.

  ‘It means we can find out where she lives, Mum. The timing couldn’t be better. We’re almost twenty-five.’

  The girls were slowly but surely gaining a reputation. News of Lillian’s stance against Sly Stan travelled fast, but it didn’t impress everyone. Iris seemed as prickly as ever. After a particularly trying day, Lillian stopped by the cafe for a cup of tea about fifteen minutes before closing time. There were only three customers, all of them sitting at separate tables.

  ‘Got any tea in that pot, Iris?’ Lillian called cheerfully. ‘My throat is as dry as a biscuit.’

  A passenger was just on his way out of the cafe to catch his train as she walked in. Lillian stepped aside to let him pass.

  ‘You’re one of the Sussex Sisters, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Lillian with a smile.

  ‘You girls came into the factory where my daughter works,’ said the man, pumping her hand. ‘They’re worked to death and it was really getting her down, but after your performance that lunchtime, it bucked them up no end. Thank you – you’re doing a grand job.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ said Lillian, deeply touched.

  ‘You must put in hours of practice to be that good,’ the man went on.

  Lillian nodded and glanced up at the big clock. ‘Got a practice tonight.’

  The man only let go of her hand as his train rumbled into the station. Lillian gave him a mock salute as he hurried away.

  ‘Nice to be appreciated,’ said Lillian as she approached the counter.

  Iris lifted the heavy stainless-steel teapot from the counter and placed it behind her on the draining board. ‘This tea is stewed,’ she said sniffily, ‘and I don’t have time to make a fresh pot. We close at five.’

  Lillian smiled. ‘Don’t worry – that’ll do so long as it’s wet and warm.’ She took a cup and saucer from the stack next to the hot-water urn and put it at the front of the counter.

  ‘All the tea in this cafe has to be paid for,’ said Iris, picking up a tea towel to dry up a couple of plates. ‘I’m sure Southern Railway can’t afford to dish out free cups to all and sundry.’

  Lillian relaxed her stance. ‘Come on, Iris,’ she said good-naturedly. ‘I really need reviving. It’s been one hell of a day.’

  Ignoring her, Iris carried on drying up.

  Lillian fished around in her pocket and pulled out two pennies. Slapping them noisily onto the counter, she said pointedly, ‘A cup of tea, please, love.’

  Something flashed in Iris’s eyes. ‘Don’t you call me “love”,’ she said indignantly. ‘How dare you speak to me like that, you cheeky mare? You should have more respect.’

  Now it was Lillian’s turn to see red. ‘My mother always taught me that respect,’ she spat, ‘was something you earned.’

  Iris turned her back and tipped the teapot upside down in the sink. Lillian watched helplessly as the scalding-hot tea, and lots of it, disappeared down the plughole. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve had it in for me ever since I got here.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Iris retorted. ‘I’ve got better things to do.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Lillian. ‘It’s true and you know it. Let’s have this out once and for all.’

  Behind her, Lillian could hear the few remaining customers leaving the room.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ said Iris. ‘You’re driving everybody away.’

  Lillian turned towards the empty room. Another train was pulling up at the platform. When she turned back, Iris gave Lillian a triumphant glare.

  ‘Like you said,’ said Lillian, willing herself to stay calm, ‘you’re closing at five. Nobody else is coming in, so kindly explain exactly what I’ve done to offend you.’

  Iris carried on with her work.

  ‘You’re jealous,’ said Lillian. She could feel her own cheeks beginning to heat up, but she wasn’t about to let this go, not yet. ‘You didn’t like it that despite all of your criticism, I got a promotion. Or maybe it’s because of the singing group?’

  The door opened and Betty Shrimpton came in with her hat and coat on. ‘Ready?’ she asked her friend, but Iris was preoccupied.

  ‘Jealous?’ Iris retorted with a hollow laugh. ‘Why would I be jealous of a jumped-up little tart like you? Don’t make me laugh.’

  Lillian put her hand on her hip. ‘Who are you calling a tart?!’ she cried.

  ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, my girl,’ Iris shouted back. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean!’ cried Lillian. ‘Who’s been talking about me?’

  ‘It’s all over Worthing,’ said Iris. ‘Making up filthy rhymes about people . . . It shouldn’t be allowed. You do know you lost that poor man his job?’

  For a second or two, Lillian was taken aback. What poor man? What job? And then it dawned on her. Iris must have heard about Sly Stan. ‘Well, I’m sorry if he’s lost his job,’ she conceded, ‘but that sleazebag had no right to paw me about. And he was doing it to half the girls in the factory, from what I heard.’

  Iris tilted her head defiantly. ‘Stan happens to live in my road,’ she said.

  ‘He can live with the King and Queen for all I care,’ Lillian retorted. ‘That doesn’t give him the right to put his hand between my buttocks and feel me.’

  ‘Ooh, you’re disgusting,’ said Betty, curling her lip.

  ‘I’m disgusting?’ Lillian cried indignantly. ‘He was the one doing it.’

  ‘You’ve got a bloody cheek,’ said Iris, ‘getting on your high horse like that. We all know the way you flaunt yourself about.’

  ‘I have never flaunted myself at anyone,’ said Lillian, ‘and I’ll thank you to mind your own business and stop casting aspersions.’

  ‘All this from a person who had to get married?’ Iris retorted. ‘And from what I hear, you were hardly out of a gymslip.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Lillian demanded.

  A mild-mannered voice behind them said, ‘Now, now, ladies.’

  Lillian turned to see that Mr Rawlings, the stationmaster, had come into the room. Outside, the platform was filling up with troops. Something must be on the move somewhere. They were already three or four deep on the platform and still coming.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Rawlings,’ said Iris, looking down her nose, ‘but I really must insist that this . . . this person be banned from the cafe. As you can see, her belligerent attitude has driven all the customers outside, and I really can’t cope with her nastiness any more.’

  ‘Me belligerent!’ cried Lillian. ‘All I did was ask for a cup of tea.’

  ‘Ladies,’ Mr Rawlings said, holding up his hands, ‘that is enough. Settle your differences outside of working hours. I will not tolerate what amounts to a staff brawl while you’re in uniform.’

  ‘I paid for the tea,’ said Lillian, pointing to her money on the counter, ‘but she preferred to tip it down the sink rather than pour me a cup.’

  ‘It was closing time,’ Iris insisted.

  There was a cry as some soldier outside spotted Lillian and knocked on the glass.

  Mr Rawlings lifted his hand. ‘Mrs Harris, please. Go home.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Lillian haughtily. ‘I won’t be coming back in here even if you paid me.’ She made to leave, but then turned back. Pointing a finger at Iris, she added, ‘And I won’t have you spreading vicious rumours and lies about my good reputation.’

  ‘You lost that, my girl,’ Iris added acidly, ‘when you were seen kissing a Canadian soldier in the Ilex Way.�
�

  At the same time, the door opened and a couple of Canadian soldiers pushed their way into the room.

  Lillian felt her face flush. She had been seen? All those months ago, someone had seen her with Woody and Iris hadn’t mentioned it until now? But who? She caught sight of Betty looking very uncomfortable and then she remembered. Betty had only just started in the ticket office, but she had been in the Ilex Way walking her dog when she and Woody had been together that day. Hot with embarrassment, Lillian turned on her heel. It took everything she had to hold her head high as she walked towards the door.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ said the soldier, thinking she was coming over to him. ‘You’re one of the Sussex Sisters, aren’t you?’ He leaned towards her and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘You were lovely,’ he said. ‘Lovely.’

  Lillian’s step faltered as Iris called after her, ‘Kissing in broad daylight, Lillian Harris? And you a married woman with your poor husband a prisoner of war. Shame on you. Shame, I say.’

  CHAPTER 17

  Stella had popped by Samuel and Susan’s place after work, not because there was a problem, far from it, but to have a chat with Mrs Dennison. Since their first meeting all those months ago, things had radically changed for the Dennisons. The children were back at school, and Mr Dennison was in work, employed at the town hall by the finance department of Worthing Borough Council. He was also being trained as the council representative in the case of emergencies. He was to coordinate the council’s response and take charge of resources and manpower in the event of a disaster or, worse still, an invasion. It was, according to his wife, a real feather in his cap and the kind of thing he’d always wanted to do. Not only that but Mrs Dennison was expecting another child. The twins were doing really well at school and it was for that reason that Stella had come to the house.

  ‘Come in, come in, miss.’

  ‘I can’t stay,’ Stella began, but Mrs Dennison’s warm greeting was too hard to resist.

  Ten minutes later, she was ensconced in the untidy sitting room with a cup of tea and a small piece of home-made cake in front of her.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come,’ said Mrs Dennison. ‘It gives me an opportunity to thank you.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ cried Stella. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘Oh, I think you have,’ she said. ‘We had a visit from you, and then only a little while later, the Legion come along and my hubby gets a job. A well-paid job at that.’

  ‘Actually, it wasn’t me—’

  Stella was cut short when Mrs Dennison raised her hand. ‘He hasn’t made the connection, miss, but I have. They also gave us money to tide us over. A godsend it was, and I want to thank you. If there’s ever anything I can do for you . . .’

  ‘Please, Mrs Dennison,’ said Stella, her cheeks growing pink, ‘let’s say no more about it.’

  ‘As you wish,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Mrs Dennison,’ Stella began again, anxious to sound businesslike and professional. ‘As you know, Samuel and Susan are bright and intelligent children, and I am sure they will have no trouble at all in passing the eleven-plus when it comes. However . . .’

  Mrs Dennison leaned forward eagerly as Stella spoke.

  ‘I think Samuel should try for a scholarship.’

  His mother caught her breath.

  ‘It will be hard work, but if we start as we mean to go on, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t take the examination for Christ’s Hospital.’

  Mrs Dennison stared at her with a blank expression.

  ‘Christ’s Hospital is a very old school,’ Stella went on, ‘with a reputation second to none.’ She handed Mrs Dennison a picture of some of its pupils in uniform. The garb was somewhat old-fashioned, with a blue frock coat and breeches ending at the knee. The rest of the leg was covered with a bright yellow stocking that matched the lining of the coat.

  ‘It looks very expensive,’ Mrs Dennison remarked as she handed back the picture.

  ‘If Samuel gets the scholarship,’ Stella went on, ‘the fees will be waived and the uniform will be free.’ She could see that Mrs Dennison was impressed.

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Horsham,’ said Stella. ‘He’d have to be a boarder, of course.’

  There was a long silence as Mrs Dennison thought about it. ‘But what about Susan?’ she eventually asked. ‘We’ve always tried to treat them the same.’

  Now it was Stella’s turn to be impressed. Usually people had little ambition for their girls, only expecting them to get some menial job when they left school because it was assumed that they would get married before long. Clearly Mrs Dennison was an enlightened woman.

  ‘There is a branch of Christ’s Hospital School for girls, but it’s about seventy miles away,’ said Stella. ‘It’s in Hertford. That’s north of London, near Welwyn Garden City.’

  ‘And they offer scholarships too?’ said Mrs Dennison.

  Stella chewed her bottom lip. ‘I’ll be perfectly honest, Mrs Dennison. I don’t know, but I can find out.’

  Mrs Dennison looked thoughtful. ‘It does seem a bit unfair if Susan is every bit as bright as Samuel not to give her a chance, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Indeed it does,’ said Stella with a smile. She sipped her tea and ate a little of the cake. It was delicious and as light as a feather.

  By the time Stella made her way home for the usual Sussex Sisters singing practice, it was already after five o’clock. She felt rather pleased with herself but also a little chastised. Mrs Dennison was right. Why shouldn’t all girls get their chance at higher education? It was time to move out of the dark ages and set young girls free. After all, women had proved themselves to be perfectly capable of doing men’s work while they were fighting, and some were doing highly skilled work at that. Once the war was over, what would happen? Surely women wouldn’t be expected to return to house and home and a life of drudgery and boredom? No, she decided, that shouldn’t be allowed to happen, and from now on she would do all in her power to broaden her pupils’ horizons.

  She’d got the idea of a Christ’s Hospital scholarship from Judith.

  ‘I’ve made a few enquiries,’ her mother-in-law said the last time Stella had visited, ‘and provided he gets good marks, there’s no reason why he couldn’t go there.’

  Mrs Dennison had promised to talk it over with her husband before making any decisions, but Stella was confident that she wouldn’t let him stand in the twins’ way of what was a golden opportunity. The next couple of years would be hard work, but it would be worth it all if both her children passed that exam.

  As she reached Richmond Road, a taxi came up Christchurch Road and turned left. When she saw the passenger, Stella did a double-take. The woman looked awfully like Pip, but what was Pip doing in a taxi? Stella waved her arm and called out, but as the passenger turned in her direction, something wasn’t quite right. Although she was the same sort of age as Pip and had the same colour hair, it was much shorter, cut and permed into tight curls. Not only that but now that she’d turned her head, Stella could see that the whole of the right side of her face was deeply scarred.

  Pip and Lillian were waiting on the doorstep when Stella arrived gushing her apologies. She would have mentioned the girl in the taxi, but it was obvious that Lillian was very upset. She’d been crying and Stella’s first thought was that something had happened to Gordon. By the time they’d reached the sitting room, Lillian had told them all about her run-in with Iris.

  ‘She seems determined to ruin my reputation,’ Lillian wept. Stella and Pip had never seen her so upset. Lillian was always the one who laughed and joked her way through tricky situations. With her devil-may-care attitude to life, they weren’t used to seeing her anything other than defiant when someone tried to put her down.

  ‘I’m beginning to hate the woman,’ she said, blowing her nose. ‘I don’t understand why she’s doing all this.’

  ‘Like you said,’ Pip said as she put her arm around Lillian’s shou
lders, ‘she’s probably jealous.’

  ‘It’s this war,’ said Stella. ‘It’s dragging on forever, and it brings out the worst in some people. We’re all on edge the whole time. It’s beginning to feel as if we’ll never get back to normal.’

  The others nodded their heads in sad agreement. All at once Stella rose to her feet. ‘A day off,’ she declared. ‘That’s what we need.’

  Pip and Lillian sat open-mouthed.

  ‘We’ll take the children,’ Stella went on excitedly, ‘and jump on a bus going somewhere.’

  ‘Where?’ said Lillian faintly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ cried Stella. ‘Anywhere. What do you say?’

  Lillian was already drying her eyes. ‘I think it sounds like a marvellous idea.’

  ‘I guess we could do with a bit of a break,’ Pip conceded.

  ‘That settles it, then,’ said Stella. ‘Leave it to me and we’ll all go on a jolly.’

  It took a while to decide where to go. It wasn’t so easy when the beaches were covered in barbed wire and anti-tank defences. There were airfields around the area (Shoreham, Ford, Tangmere and Westhampnett), which blighted the countryside, and of course funfairs and outdoor entertainment that might draw crowds were seriously curtailed. Luckily, Stella had kept in touch with Brenda and Vera, the land girls her mother had billeted in her house when she, Pip and Lillian had first met. Vera was back home in Stoke-on-Trent, but Brenda was working on a farm just outside Pulborough. According to her, the bus went right by the gate, so they’d be most welcome to come for the day. The only demand she made on them, and it was hardly a demand, was that the Sussex Sisters would entertain some ladies from the local WI before they went back home.

  When the big day came, the children were excited, even though they’d had to get up very early to make the most of their time. They all enjoyed the bus ride, and Brenda met them at the farm gate just after ten.

  ‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ she said, once the greetings were over and they were heading towards the farmhouse. She extended her left hand and waited for them to admire the diamond-shaped ruby ring on her third finger.