Sing Them Home

by Pam Weaver

  ‘Yes,’ said Pip. ‘I’m married, and we have two children. Georgie is seven, and Hazel is five. My husband was caught up in the fall of Singapore. He’s a Japanese POW.’

  A strange look flickered across Marion’s face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sympathized. ‘You must be having a pretty hard time of it.’

  ‘I haven’t heard from him since he was captured,’ said Pip with a sigh. ‘It’s been over a year now and I still don’t know if he’s dead or alive.’

  The two sisters fixed their eyes on each other. All at once Marion smiled and said, ‘Poor you.’ Pip felt a bit uncomfortable. Marion’s tone wasn’t exactly sincere, but then she added, ‘Can I give you a hug?’

  They stood up together and spread out their arms.

  ‘Will I hurt you?’ Pip asked anxiously.

  ‘No, so long as you don’t squeeze me too hard,’ said Marion, and as they enfolded each other in their arms, Pip’s silent tears fell while Marion’s body stiffened.

  CHAPTER 20

  As the days went by, Judith had secured invitations for the Sussex Sisters to revisit the camps in the Broadwater area. The Allied troops loved them and were hoarse from cheering by the time the show was over. Aside from singing for the soldiers, it was good meeting up again with people who had been so supportive at their debut in village halls, hospital wards and WI meetings. Their number-one fan, Mr Knight, turned up for every performance and clapped enthusiastically. The girls made new friendships. Everyone had their own particular story to tell: a husband wounded, a brother killed, a relative made homeless by the bombing, children evacuated yet again and desperate to come home, or, on a happier note, children happily settled and thriving up North somewhere.

  Lillian and Stella were dying to tell everybody about Pip’s twin sister, but she had sworn them to secrecy. They weren’t sure why but it was obvious that Pip had some reservations about Marion.

  As for Marion herself, she told them she was working for the government exposing people involved in the black market. For that reason, she explained, most people held her at arm’s length. When Pip found out, she was relieved that she hadn’t got involved in any more under-the-counter purchases since the incident surrounding the bolt of midnight-blue material.

  The odd thing was, Marion didn’t invite Pip to stay with her, nor did she seem bothered about meeting Pip’s children. Every time Pip asked about their mother, Marion was evasive about her too.

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder why she’s turned up at all,’ Pip told Stella. ‘She’s very cagey about everything.’

  ‘Has she been to your home yet?’

  ‘No,’ said Pip. ‘She told me to meet her in Lyons tearooms.’

  Stella gave her a quizzical look. ‘Perhaps you should speak to her in a more direct manner?’

  Pip looked away and shook her head. ‘I can’t. She’s so prickly everything ends up in a row.’

  ‘You’re afraid of her, aren’t you?’ said Stella.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Pip. ‘I just don’t want to go back to the way things were. She blames me for what happened. Oh, she doesn’t actually come out with it, but it’s always there, hanging over my head like a dark cloud. All those little hints and insinuations she drops, I can’t bear it.’

  ‘Oh, Pip,’ said Stella. ‘I’m so sorry. Look, if you ever want to talk—’

  ‘I can’t,’ Pip interrupted.

  Lillian had discovered that Nigel was dominating her thoughts. He was the first thing to come into her mind the moment she woke up, and all through the day, little things reminded her of him. Some chap at the station flicked his cigarette away just as the train pulled in. Nigel did that. A man in the waiting room was chewing the inside of his cheek as he concentrated on the crossword puzzle. Nigel did that too. She tried to imagine being with him and Flora as a family, and in her daydreams they ran up Highdown Hill or splashed in the sea at Goring in a world free from tyranny and war.

  Whenever these thoughts intruded, she would pull herself up short. She’d tell herself she was wicked to think such things. She was a married woman with responsibilities. Nigel had never once led her on or even suggested any impropriety, but that didn’t stop this perpetual yearning to see him again.

  Marion had put in her appearance just a few months before the twins’ twenty-fifth birthday. For Stella, that was the perfect excuse for a party, and it didn’t take her long to get everything going. She was disappointed to discover that they couldn’t do it on Pip’s actual birthday, Friday November 27th, because Marion had arranged some family occasion and had made it plain that the girls weren’t invited. It was an awkward moment. Lillian and Stella could see that their friend was embarrassed, and although it was perfectly understandable for Marion to want Pip to herself, the whole business made Stella feel uneasy. In the end, they arranged that Pip would leave Georgie and Hazel with Stella for the weekend. They would go to school as normal on Friday but come home with Stella afterwards. Marion would collect Pip from her place that morning and take her to their mother’s house. They would return to Worthing the following day, the Saturday. It seemed a little odd not to want to stay with their mother a bit longer, but in an effort to make the occasion special, Stella planned her party for the Saturday evening.

  When Marion turned up in a car she drove herself, there was only Dorcas to wave them off. ‘She looked more like she was going to a wake than a birthday celebration,’ Dorcas told Lillian later that evening. ‘There’s something not quite right there if you ask me.’

  Lillian brought Flora round on Friday evening so that she and Stella could start getting the room ready for the following day. There would be enough to do on Saturday, and to keep the children amused in the morning, Stella had promised to take them to see Father Christmas in his grotto in Bentalls, which was opening that day.

  After tea, the children played in Stella’s bedroom. They loved the dressing-up box, and before long they could hear the girls clip-clopping around in high-heel shoes on the parquet floor of the hallway, while Georgie was some sort of dragon or monster jumping out of cupboards or leaping from behind a chair to scare them away.

  ‘Mum said Pip didn’t look too happy when she set off,’ said Lillian. ‘How did she seem to you when she brought the children’s things round?’

  The two of them were in the sitting room blowing up balloons.

  ‘Worried,’ said Stella. She paused before adding, ‘It’s all a bit odd, don’t you think?’

  ‘I feel the same way,’ said Lillian. ‘I’m not sure about that Marion either. I mean, ever since they sat in your sitting room – that’s what, about three months ago? – Since that first meeting backstage, she’s only been to see Pip a couple of times, always in a tearoom, and the last time, she chose the very day we told her Georgie and Hazel wouldn’t be there.’ She laid a red balloon in her lap to tie the neck. ‘I can’t make her out.’

  Stella, who was folding paper napkins, lowered herself onto a chair. ‘I know she’s gone through an awful lot, what with that terrible burn and everything, but to be honest, I don’t like her much.’

  ‘What a relief to hear you say that,’ said Lillian. ‘I don’t like her much either. She’s so different from Pip. Pip is fun to be around, she’s loving and caring, but her sister seems . . . I can’t put my finger on it, but when she’s around, it’s like poor Pip is walking on eggshells.’

  ‘I know she hates the snide remarks,’ said Stella.

  ‘Snide remarks?’

  ‘That first day, just as she was going, I don’t know if you heard, but she said something like, “Every time you look in the mirror, you must see me as I once was.”’

  Lillian looked shocked. ‘That’s a bit unkind.’

  ‘She was laughing about it, but you’re right – it wasn’t very nice.’

  ‘I remember Pip told me once that it was her fault she got burned,’ Lillian continued.

  ‘As I recall, you said the same sort of thing when Flora got burned,’ said Stella, ‘but we all
know it wasn’t true. Knowing Pip, I’m sure whatever happened, it was an accident. She’d never do something like that deliberately.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Lillian.

  They sat for a moment or two, each lost in her own thoughts.

  ‘When I told Marion about the Sussex Sisters,’ Lillian went on, ‘she didn’t seem to be at all interested.’

  ‘That’s odd too,’ said Stella. ‘Wouldn’t you think she’d be proud of Pip?’

  ‘She strikes me as a bit cold,’ Lillian remarked. ‘And here’s me thinking that twins were supposed to be close.’

  There was a loud squeal in the hallway as Georgie leapt out of the cupboard under the stairs with a growly voice. Stella and Lillian looked up and grinned at each other as they heard the girls clattering away in their high heels.

  ‘Come to think of it,’ Lillian went on, ‘whenever she has turned up, she’s never stayed long.’

  ‘I reckon we’d better keep a weather eye on the situation,’ said Stella. ‘Whatever that woman is up to, the last thing we want is Pip getting hurt.’

  Pip felt as nervous as a kitten. She sat in the front passenger seat of Marion’s car trying to look calm, but it wasn’t easy. Her suitcase was on the back seat, with presents for her mother and Marion on the top. She had bought her sister a fountain pen and matching pencil set. It was quite expensive and had taken a lot of coupons, but it was worth it. She had dipped into her savings for her mother’s present: a brooch from Pressleys, the jeweller’s in South Street. It left a sizeable hole in her bank balance and she would have to forgo a few post-war credit certificates, which were issued as recognition of higher taxes paid to the government to help the war effort. Thankfully, the shop rents were stable, and she hadn’t had too many repairs of late. She’d been lucky that when the Heinkel crashed into Reydon the previous year, her shopfronts had stayed intact. A few doors down, the pub had had all its windows blown in, as had many houses nearby.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Pip asked as they headed towards Chichester.

  ‘A place called Wimborne,’ said Marion.

  ‘Wimborne?’ Pip gasped. ‘But that’s miles away.’

  ‘Which is why I told you to bring a suitcase,’ her sister retorted in a patronizing voice.

  ‘Is that where Mum lives now?’ She couldn’t remember where their first house had been, though she knew it was somewhere in London. All she had was memories of the sitting room and sitting on Daddy’s lap while he read a bedtime story. Later, when he’d died, they had moved to Devon, and whenever she thought of her mother, she always pictured her there.

  Marion had one hand on the steering wheel and the other in her handbag. She fished out her cigarette case and handed it to Pip. ‘Light one up for me, will you?’

  Pip took a cigarette out of the case and put it between her lips.

  ‘There’s some Swan Vestas in the bag,’ said Marion.

  Pip found the matches and lit the cigarette before passing it over to Marion.

  ‘Have one yourself,’ said Marion.

  ‘I don’t smoke,’ said Pip, putting everything back in the bag and replacing it in the footwell.

  ‘Oh, bully for you,’ Marion snorted sarcastically.

  It was not a kind remark. Pip sucked in her lips and gazed out of the window. She might have enjoyed the ride if she’d been with someone else. They trundled along pretty country roads. The war had altered the landscape, but beyond the barricades, army camps and bomb craters, the beauty of the English countryside was still there. War-weary people, dressed mainly in browns and greys, waited at bus stops, rode bicycles or shopped in the high streets. Every now and then, she could see a spot of colour: a bright headscarf, a child wearing red scuffed hand-me-down shoes or the occasional straggly rose hanging over a garden wall. The weather was pleasant for the time of year, chilly but not cold, although everyone was wearing their winter coats, including Pip and Marion.

  They sat in silence for such a long time that conversation became awkward.

  ‘Will I be staying with you and Mum?’ Pip asked eventually.

  ‘Of course,’ said Marion, winding down the window to dispose of her third dog-end. ‘We’ll stop in a minute for a break.’

  They turned into a town called Romsey and looked for the public toilets. They found some in the town centre and spent a penny. When they came out, Marion suggested a cup of tea.

  ‘You haven’t told me much about yourself,’ said Pip as they sat down and Marion lit yet another cigarette.

  ‘Not much to tell.’

  ‘Do you have anyone special in your life?’

  ‘Good Lord, no,’ said Marion.

  ‘Can you tell me more about your job?’ asked Pip.

  Marion drew her finger across her lips as if zipping her mouth and Pip knew not to ask any more. She sipped her tea. ‘Will Mum be home?’

  Marion picked a speck of tobacco from the end of her tongue. ‘Yes.’

  Pip sighed. Yes. Was that all? Why was she making this such hard work? ‘Is Mum in good health?’

  ‘I told you before. She’s fine,’ said Marion impatiently. She looked at her watch and started to gather her things. ‘Come on. We’d better get going. We don’t want to be late.’

  ‘What for?’ Pip called after her as she hurried from the tearoom.

  But Marion didn’t answer.

  CHAPTER 21

  They arrived in Wimborne at 2.30 p.m. The remainder of the journey had been as awkward as the first part and Pip was exhausted. All she wanted to do was have a cup of tea and something to eat, and lie on her bed for a while. She couldn’t wait to see her mother’s house, but to her surprise, her sister suddenly said, ‘Before we do anything else, we need to see Granny’s solicitor.’

  ‘Why?’ Pip’s question went unanswered as they crossed a small humpbacked bridge and headed towards the town. They parked outside Peak, Hall & Ellis, Solicitors, which was next to a short pedestrian footpath adjoining Woolworths.

  Without a word of explanation, Marion picked up her handbag and led the way. Pip was beginning to feel annoyed. Why all the mystery? What was Marion up to? She’d said Granny had died shortly after she’d left home. She was sixteen back then and had taken a job as a nursery assistant in a children’s home because it was the only way Pip could get a roof over her head and a job at the same time. If Granny had died nine years before, why on earth were they going to see her solicitor now?

  The offices of Peak, Hall & Ellis were through a door between two shops and up a narrow staircase. There were some chairs lined against the wall on the landing. A woman came out of an office, and when Marion told her who they were, they were asked to sit down. As soon as they were comfortable, the woman walked along the corridor and knocked gently on another door.

  Pip turned to her sister. ‘What’s this all about, Marion?’ she said coldly. ‘Why have you brought me here?’

  Once again she was met with silence.

  Pip stood to her feet. ‘Well, if you won’t tell me, I’m going,’ she said crossly.

  ‘Sit down,’ Marion scowled.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ said Pip. ‘Not until you tell me what we’re doing here.’

  ‘It’s to do with Granny’s will,’ said Marion sullenly. ‘There’s a clause in it that applies to me and you.’

  Pip lowered herself back down onto the chair. ‘Go on.’

  ‘She left us some money,’ said Marion, ‘but we had to wait until we were twenty-five before we could have it.’ She glanced up at Pip and added sarcastically, ‘Happy birthday, darling.’

  The secretary was back. Pip’s mind was all over the place. Granny had left her some money? How thoughtful, how kind, but why had Marion kept it secret until now? If anyone else had done that, she would have thought it was a birthday surprise, but with Marion at the helm, it felt altogether different. She followed the two women into the office.

  Mr Ellis was a small, twittery man with a balding head and glasses. He was obviously self-conscious of h
is looks because he had grown some side hair very long and combed it over the top of his head to disguise his baldness. The ruse hadn’t worked. As he extended his hand for them to shake, he was unaware that the long hair had fallen down and hung out like a limp and broken wing. They all shook hands and sat down. Unusually for a private consultation, the secretary remained in the room. Mr Ellis opened a large brown envelope and tipped the contents onto his desk. As he smoothed out the pages, Pip stared at the upside-down writing. The last will and testament of . . .

  ‘Here is the relevant part,’ said Mr Ellis, turning the page. ‘As for my dear granddaughters, Marion Eleanor Abbott and Philippa Gillian Abbott, it has always grieved me that they didn’t get on. I therefore have decided that if they reach an age of maturity and have become not only loving sisters but best of friends by their twenty-fifth birthday . . .’

  Pip glanced across at her sister. Marion was smiling, her eyes were bright with excitement, and her breathing quickened with every word Mr Ellis spoke. So this was it. Marion had gone to all this trouble and sought her out for money! Pip’s cheeks flamed with anger as Mr Ellis droned on and on.

  ‘To this end, if they come to the offices of Peak, Hall & Ellis on their twenty-fifth birthday or in the year following and, in the presence of a witness, will declare and affirm—’

  ‘Would you mind reading that bit again?’ said Pip.

  Mr Ellis stopped speaking. All eyes were on Pip. Marion leaned over and touched her hand. Pip snatched it away.

  ‘Which bit?’ Mr Ellis asked.

  ‘There’s no need to make Mr Ellis read it again, darling,’ Marion interrupted. ‘You can read it for yourself when he’s finished.’

  ‘The bit from “an age of maturity”,’ said Pip.

  Mr Ellis repeated the words.

  ‘Well, we haven’t,’ said Pip.

  The secretary’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Beg pardon?’ said Mr Ellis.

  Marion jumped to her feet. ‘Mr Ellis,’ she blurted out in a smarmy voice, ‘we’ve both had a long journey and my sister is tired.’