Sing Them Home

by Pam Weaver

  ‘We haven’t been reconciled,’ Pip said in ringing tones.

  Grabbing the arms of Pip’s chair, Marion leaned towards her and hissed in her ear, ‘If you don’t say we’re friends, we don’t get the money.’ She stood back up with a wide smile. ‘Just my sister’s little joke.’

  ‘I’m afraid we’ve rather wasted your time, Mr Ellis,’ Pip said calmly, rising to her feet. ‘Marion and I are not loving sisters, nor are we best friends, and what is more, I have an awful feeling we never shall be.’

  Marion pulled on her arm to stop her leaving the room, but Pip snatched it away. She held out her hand to the astonished solicitor. ‘I imagine someone else will reap the benefit of all this,’ she said in a deliberate tone. ‘If that is the case, I would be grateful if you would tell whoever it is that I am glad and I wish them well.’ And stepping round the chair, she walked from the room. She allowed herself a small smile as she reached the stairs. It was a long time since she’d felt this good. A very long time.

  Marion clattered down the stairs behind her. ‘You bitch. You bloody bitch!’

  Lillian had taken Flora to the pictures for the afternoon. It was a dull day and already getting dark. As she turned into her gate, Lillian was aware of someone lurking by the hedge. Being November, she knew Dorcas would have lit the fire and it wouldn’t be long before the sitting room was warm and cosy. Nudging Flora towards the front door, Lillian glanced back. ‘Who’s there?’

  A man stepped from behind the hedge. ‘It’s only me,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

  Lillian took in her breath. ‘Nigel?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, moving into the light. Her heart skipped a beat. He looked even more handsome in his mackintosh and trilby hat, which he lifted politely as he spoke.

  ‘Just a minute,’ said Lillian, and guiding Flora to the front door, she turned the key in the lock and said, ‘You go on in and find Granny. I’ll be along in a minute.’

  ‘Who is that man, Mummy?’ Flora asked. ‘Is that my daddy?’

  Lillian shook her head. ‘No, sweetheart. It’s just somebody who wants to talk to me about something at work. Now, off you go. I’ll be with you in a sec.’

  She closed the door again and turned back. As she came closer, he had pushed his hat back on his head.

  He reached out his hands and took hers. ‘I know I shouldn’t ask this, Lil,’ he said nervously, ‘you being a married woman and all, but would you like to come out one evening with me for a drink?’

  At first, she was surprised. She hadn’t been expecting that, but as she opened her mouth, he quickly added, ‘No funny business, I promise. Just a drink.’

  Lillian relaxed and smiled. ‘I think I would like that, Nigel,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’ll come out with you. I’d like that very much.’

  It was about 4.15 p.m. and the light was failing as Pip burst onto the street. She was so anxious to get away from Marion she almost knocked someone over.

  ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon,’ she began, but as the woman looked up, Pip got a surprise. ‘Mum!’

  Marion came flying into the street behind her just as Pip, all the hurt and anger momentarily forgotten, opened her arms to give her mother a hug. Over Pip’s shoulder, she didn’t see her sister’s eyes lock with her mother’s. Marion curled her lip and shook her head slowly.

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ Pip whispered. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ When she leaned back to look at her mother, Maud Abbott wore a stony expression. The lines around her mouth may have been harder, and her hair was greyer and perhaps not as thick as she remembered, but she was still Mum.

  ‘What’s wrong, darling?’

  Pip smiled until she realized her mother wasn’t addressing her but her sister.

  Marion was sobbing. She had become a little girl again and was creating such a scene that people turned their heads. With a look of contempt, Maud pushed Pip to one side and put her arm around Marion’s shoulder. That look felt like a knife going into Pip’s heart. Nothing had changed. She was still on the outside looking in.

  ‘She wouldn’t do it, Mum,’ Marion gulped. ‘The stupid bitch told him we’d never be friends.’

  Maud Abbott turned to Pip and rounded on her. ‘How could you?’

  ‘Let’s go somewhere for a cup of tea, Mum,’ said Pip, ‘then we can talk about it.’

  ‘The shops will be closing soon,’ said Maud.

  Pip spotted a place a couple of doors down opposite the minster and persuaded the pair of them to come in. They sat in the window seats. The waitress was probably going to tell them they were about to close, but when she saw the state Marion was in, she gave them an uncomfortable smile. Pip ordered tea and sandwiches.

  ‘You’re looking well, Mum,’ said Pip, taking off her coat. ‘I hoped I might see you.’

  ‘Marion says you have two children,’ said her mother.

  ‘Yes,’ Pip smiled. ‘Georgie is seven, nearly eight, and Hazel is five.’ She opened her handbag and pulled out a photograph to show her mother. It was of the two of them playing in the garden. ‘They’re a bit older now. I had it done to send to my husband, only I haven’t been able to get it to him. He’s a POW. Did Marion tell you? He was captured by the Japs.’

  They were interrupted when the waitress brought the tea.

  Pip laid her hand over her mother’s, but Maud took it away to pour the tea.

  ‘I brought a present for you, Mum,’ said Pip, taking a bite from a Spam-and-chutney sandwich. Gosh, she was hungry. ‘It’s in the car.’

  ‘What happened in there?’ her mother asked.

  ‘I can’t wait for you to meet Peter,’ Pip went on. ‘Unfortunately, he was caught up in the fall of Singapore. Everyone thought it was impregnable, but . . .’ She stopped. Her mother wasn’t even looking at her; she was waiting for Marion to finish drying her eyes.

  ‘All you had to do was tell him we were friends,’ Marion hissed. ‘I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but we were all right in the car, weren’t we?’

  ‘You hardly even spoke to me,’ Pip retaliated. Then desperate to lighten the mood, she added, ‘This is a nice place. Do you live in Wimborne, Mum?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject,’ Marion spat. ‘You cow. This is the second time you’ve tried to ruin my life.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ said Pip. ‘I might have cooperated if you’d told me what you were up to.’

  Marion harrumphed.

  By the looks on their faces, the atmosphere was becoming toxic.

  ‘Listen, I’m sorry,’ said Pip. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, but you really got up my nose in there.’

  ‘Then come back with me,’ said Marion.

  Pip shook her head. ‘I’m not prepared to pretend something that isn’t true. I don’t tell lies. No amount of money is worth selling myself short like that.’ She glanced up at her mother. ‘Shall I order cakes?’

  Her mother, who hadn’t eaten a thing, looked out of the window. Pip wriggled a little in her seat. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I need the toilet.’

  She rose and walked to the back of the room. There was only one toilet, and as they were closing, she found herself behind a queue of two women. Pip struggled to compose herself. This wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, and she wasn’t naive enough to imagine a warm and tearful welcome from her mother, but she had hoped they could try and talk over their differences.

  By the time she reached the toilet, Pip was on the verge of crying with disappointment and hurt. With no one else waiting to come in, she allowed herself a couple of minutes to shed a tear or two, then washed her face. After that, she got out her almost depleted pancake compact and applied a fresh coat to her cheeks. There wasn’t much left, but pinching her cheeks to make them pink and putting on a spot of lippy made all the difference. Having satisfied herself that no one would know how upset she’d been, she made her way back to the window seat. Her mother and sister were gone
. On her plate, Pip found the bill. Beside the plate, she found her mother’s present and the one she had bought for her sister. When she looked down, her suitcase was by the chair.

  CHAPTER 22

  ‘Mummy, Mummy.’ Hazel’s excited squeals as she leaned over the bars of the gate to Stella’s house alerted them to Pip’s return. They had been expecting her, of course, but seeing her walking down Salisbury Road with her suitcase in her hand was a bit of a surprise. When she was about halfway towards them, Stella opened the gate and the children ran to meet her. Pip kneeled down and hugged them so fiercely Georgie wriggled to be set free.

  Lillian was coming towards them. ‘Where’s your sister? We were expecting Marion to be with you.’

  Georgie was wrestling Pip’s hand. ‘Can I carry your case, Mummy? Let me carry your case.’

  Lillian was still looking for Marion’s car. ‘Why did she drop you at the top of the road? She could have at least brought you to the door.’

  Georgie took the case and staggered along the road with it, while Hazel grabbed her mother’s hand. As Pip stood to her feet, Stella and Lillian could see that she was exhausted.

  ‘You look all in,’ Stella said.

  ‘I am pretty tired,’ Pip confessed.

  ‘What the hell—’ Lillian began, but she was stopped short by the nudge Stella gave her in the ribs.

  ‘Let’s get you indoors to freshen up,’ she said. ‘The others will be here soon.’

  ‘Others?’ said Pip faintly.

  ‘You’ve forgotten,’ Stella said apologetically. ‘It’s your birthday party.’

  ‘We’ve been blowing up lots and lots of balloons,’ said Georgie.

  ‘And Auntie Stella let me make jellies,’ said Hazel.

  ‘And me,’ Flora chipped in.

  Hazel tugged on her mother’s arm. ‘Come and see, Mummy,’ she said, her face shining with excitement. ‘Which colour will you have? I like the red one best. Auntie Stella says it tastes like strawberries.’

  As they pulled their mother indoors, Lillian and Stella exchanged anxious looks behind her back. What on earth had happened? And where was Marion?

  ‘Perhaps we should cancel?’ Lillian whispered.

  ‘Too late now,’ said Stella. ‘They’ll be here in less than an hour.’

  ‘But where’s Marion?’ Lillian whispered. ‘Oh God, this is awful.’

  They followed the children into the sitting room, where gaily coloured balloons bobbed all along the picture rail. Bunting trailed from corner to corner, and across the bay window, pieces of paper spelling out the words ‘Happy birthday, Pip & Marion’ clipped the light coming into the room.

  The look on Pip’s face said it all.

  ‘This is a disaster, isn’t it?’ Lillian whispered to Stella.

  ‘Look, Mummy,’ cried Hazel, pointing to the table groaning with food. ‘We’ve made lots of sandwiches too.’

  ‘And sausage rolls,’ said Georgie. ‘Can I have one now, Auntie Stella? You said I could have one when Mummy comes.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Stella said firmly. ‘Now, I want you children to go back outside and tell me when you see the first guest arriving.’ As they clattered back outside to wait by the gate, she called after them, ‘No squabbling, and don’t get dirty,’ but they were already arguing about who was going to stand on the bottom rung of the gate first.

  Pip hadn’t moved. She stood, shoulders hunched, staring at the party food.

  ‘If you’d rather cancel . . .’ Stella began.

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ said Pip. ‘It’s lovely, and you’ve all gone to so much trouble.’

  ‘Maybe we should have waited,’ said Lillian glumly, ‘but it seemed like the ideal moment to celebrate.’

  ‘And it is,’ said Pip, her voice small and strained.

  ‘I’m sorry, Pip,’ said Stella. ‘We rather presumed that Marion would be with you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Lillian, touching Pip’s arm. ‘Is Marion all right?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Pip. Her voice had an edge to it. ‘Marion is fine. Couldn’t be better.’

  Stella and Lillian exchanged an anxious glance. ‘Did she bring you home?’

  ‘I came on the train,’ said Pip, turning to look directly at them for the first time since she’d arrived. ‘Look, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it right now. Like you say, people are coming, and I would like to have a wash and change my frock before they do. I had to stay in a horrible, cheap boarding-house last night and I feel like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said Stella. ‘Come upstairs. We took the liberty of bringing one of your dresses over. It’s hanging on the back of the door in the bathroom.’

  Alone in the bathroom, Pip sat on a small wooden chair at the end of the bath and stared out of the window. It was already getting dark. The garden looked empty and cheerless. Stella scarcely had time for gardening, so what little borders there were were overgrown with weeds. It did nothing to lighten her mood.

  Looking up, Pip could see a spider’s web stretching from the window to the drainpipe. For some time she stared at a fly desperately trying to free itself from certain death. It had probably spotted the spider waiting in a hollow between the drainpipe and the wall, and knew what was coming.

  She stood to her feet and, grasping the edge of the sink, studied her own reflection in the mirror above. She looked a mess. Her hair was all over the place, her face, devoid of make-up, was blotchy, and her skin was dry. She felt as if she’d aged ten years since she’d last stood in front of this mirror.

  Why was this happening? Why did her mother dislike her so much? Marion was her sister and yet the minute Pip had refused to collaborate in a lie, she had no time for her. They say blood is thicker than water, but where was the love in all of this? What had she done to deserve such treatment? It was unfair. It was cruel and heartless. Pip sighed. She felt ill used and miserable.

  She glanced down and saw that Stella had loaned her a brand-new, fluffy white face flannel, as soft as down. There wasn’t time for a bath, so she ran the hot water into the sink and the pipes clanked in protest. Pip soaped the flannel, then rubbed it over her face. She could feel herself giving way to tears again, but she mustn’t do it. For the sake of her children and her friends, she had to put it all to one side for the moment.

  She lifted her blouse and the petticoat underneath, and washed her tired body. It was only then that she realized that the soap was scented. A delicate rose-petal perfume filled the room. These days, scented soap was as rare as hen’s teeth. How kind of Stella. She must have been saving it for a special occasion, maybe for the time Johnny came home on leave, and yet she had given it to Pip.

  When she was washed and dry, she spotted her dress hanging on the back of the door. Someone had ironed it beautifully. As Pip pulled it over her arms, she saw a transformation begin in the mirror. Doing up the buttons and the belt, she began to return to her old self. She pinched her cheeks to make them pink and brushed her hair vigorously.

  Almost ready, she noticed a small china dish next to where the flannel had been. When she lifted the lid, Pip gasped. Lillian had placed her brand-new lipstick inside. There was also a powder and puff, and a diamanté hair slide. Pip’s eyes smarted. Her mother and sister may be unfeeling and heartless, but here was love. Love in a flannel, the soap, the ironed dress, the lipstick and the powder. She took a deep breath. Why should she feel sorry for herself? There was no need. Her family might not care much about her, but she was rich in love and friendship.

  When Stella came back downstairs, Lillian said, ‘What are we going to say when people ask where Marion is? If we don’t have a good answer, they’ll be asking questions all evening, and it’s obvious that Pip doesn’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘We’ll say Marion is indisposed,’ said Stella. ‘We’ll say she’s come down with something.’ She glanced helplessly at Lillian.

  ‘Chickenpox?’ Lillian suggested. ‘Mumps?
Shingles?’

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ said Stella. ‘Poor Marion has shingles.’

  It was a bit of a squash in the sitting room, but the party went well. There were barely enough chairs to go round, so it was just as well that one of Stella’s teaching colleagues hadn’t turned up.

  ‘I can’t think why she’s not here,’ Stella told Lillian as they made tea in the kitchen. ‘She was perfectly fine yesterday.’

  ‘Perhaps she forgot,’ said Lillian, trying to be helpful.

  ‘Got the time wrong more like,’ Stella chuckled.

  Everyone enjoyed themselves, and if Pip looked a bit sad, they put it down to the disappointment she must be feeling that her sister had been unable to come. They chatted and ate, then ate and chatted. Later, they played silly games, like musical chairs for the children and charades for the adults.

  The guest list comprised the people who mattered most to Stella, Lillian and Pip. For Pip, there were a couple of the children she looked after, along with their mums. Phyllis, Stella’s mother, was there, of course, and she had invited three teachers from her school, though only two had turned up, while Lillian had not only invited her mother, Dorcas, but also Iris, Betty and Mr Knight in an attempt to be more friendly.

  The station cafe had been quiet when, heart in mouth, Lillian had walked in a few days ago. Iris, hostile as ever, gave her a haughty glare. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘You remember me talking about my friend Pip,’ Lillian began.

  ‘Can’t say that I do,’ said Iris, polishing the counter.

  Lillian bit her tongue. ‘She’s one of the Sussex Sisters,’ she went on, ‘and she’s got a birthday coming up.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She’s just found her long-lost sister, so we thought we would throw a special birthday party, and I wondered if you would like to come along.’

  She could see by her expression that she’d taken the wind out of Iris’s sails. Lillian suppressed a small smile.

  ‘It’s at Salisbury Road,’ Lillian went on. ‘It won’t be late, because most of us have got kiddies, but you’d be very welcome to come.’