Sing Them Home

by Pam Weaver

Stella shivered. He leaned over her and smiled. ‘But don’t worry, Freckle-Face,’ he teased. ‘As you can see, it was a hollow threat.’

  ‘And the second time?’

  ‘When the Eyeties threw in the towel, the Germans were rounding up all Allied prisoners to take us to camps in Germany,’ Johnny said after a long draw on his cigarette. ‘Nobby and I legged it then.’ He paused. ‘We were lucky. An Italian woman found us a safe house until the partisans came. They hid us in the mountains for several months until it was safe enough to get us to Switzerland.’ He sighed. ‘While we were with them, we joined with the guerrillas for a while. The fighting was fierce and the stakes were high.’ He looked away for a second and, chewing his lip, added, ‘I’m afraid poor old Nobby didn’t make it.’

  He stubbed out his cigarette and looked down at her. ‘What about you? They tell me you’re a pretty good singer.’

  ‘You should know,’ she quipped. ‘You’ve heard me in the bath often enough.’

  He laughed. ‘Where did you sing exactly?’

  ‘Didn’t you get my letters?’ she asked.

  ‘I did,’ said Johnny, ‘but they’re ages old. What have you been doing recently?’

  ‘Mostly the camps,’ she said, ‘but we did a couple of performances at Worthing Hospital and at the Canadian hospital by the station in Shaftesbury Road. It was all for charity.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful,’ he said. ‘Will I get to hear you?’

  Stella looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘I gave it all up when I got the telegram.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ he said sympathetically.

  ‘I felt like I didn’t want to go on without you.’

  He kissed her tenderly. ‘I couldn’t let you know I was alive. It just wasn’t possible.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Anyway, now Lillian has gone solo, I don’t suppose the Sussex Sisters will ever get back together again.’

  Downstairs, they heard the dinner gong. Stella pulled back the bedclothes and started to get up. Johnny pushed her back down gently.

  ‘They’ll bring us something to eat when I ring,’ he said. He traced his finger along the line of her body from her waist to her thigh. It felt deliciously sexy. ‘You do know I’m going back.’

  She stared at him, horrified.

  ‘I have to, darling,’ he said. ‘The Allies may have invaded, but it’s not over yet. I get the feeling that Jerry will fight on to the last man standing.’

  ‘But you’ve already done so much,’ she protested. Her eyes filled with tears. This was so unfair. She’d thought he was dead for months and months, he’d only just got back, and now he was going again. ‘Do you have to go? Don’t tell me you volunteered.’

  He laid his hand across her hip. ‘I haven’t volunteered, but I do have some very useful contacts. I must go back, darling. My knowledge could save lives.’

  ‘Oh, Johnny.’ Her voice was thick with emotion.

  ‘I know,’ he said, kissing her. ‘I know.’ That lean, hungry look was there again as he rolled over on top of her, but this time it was in her eyes as well.

  The audiences absolutely loved her. Lillian was intoxicated by standing ovations, the flowers, the nylons and the bottles of perfume she received after every performance. The money was good too. Her one and only evening dress (on loan from Pip) became two and then three. The money she had saved from her pay rise was put to good use. She posed for photographs and did publicity shots, and was invited to sing at official functions. It had only been a few weeks since she’d decided to go it alone, but she was riding high, and Nigel was the icing on the cake.

  Whenever they met, they made plans for their future. She told Nigel she would write to Gordon and ask him for a divorce. She was utterly convinced that he wouldn’t mind as his letters were so few and far between now. Because she didn’t want Nigel’s name dragged through the mud, Lillian said she was willing to pay a professional to act as a co-respondent. ‘I’ll book a room in a hotel in Brighton,’ she told Nigel as they lay in each other’s arms. ‘People do it all the time.’

  But Nigel was horrified. ‘But that means you’ll be labelled an adulteress.’

  Lillian giggled. ‘Which is what I am, I suppose.’

  ‘Darling, you don’t understand,’ he went on. ‘If you get a bad name, Gordon can get custody of Flora.’

  Lillian sat up. ‘Could he?’ She frowned thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think he’d do that. He never wanted her in the first place, and he’s been away so long, he doesn’t even know her.’

  Nigel shook his head. ‘All I am saying is, you can never be sure what people will do out of spite.’

  The thought of maybe losing Flora hit home. ‘Oh, Nigel, what are we going to do?’

  He drew her close. ‘Let’s leave things as they are for the moment. The war is dragging on forever. It could be years before Gordon gets back.’

  ‘But I want us to be married,’ she said petulantly.

  ‘And I do too,’ he said, ‘but let’s talk to Gordon when he gets back. That would be much better than putting it in a letter.’

  She lay back with a sigh. Nigel was right. It would be kinder to wait until Gordon got home, but in the meantime . . .

  Georgie managed to skip along the back alley without a care in the world, but when he reached the corner, he was surprised to see Billy waiting for him. In an uncharacteristic move, Billy put his arm around Georgie’s shoulder.

  ‘Don’t look round,’ he said quietly right into Georgie’s ear, ‘but your mum has followed you.’

  Georgie stiffened and almost turned his head.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Billy hissed. Then beckoning Norman over to them, he said quietly, ‘Here, Norm, give him one of your sweets.’

  It was obvious that Norman wasn’t too keen to share his booty with Georgie, but nobody argued with the gang leader. He handed him a farthing chew and Georgie stuffed it into his mouth.

  A couple of seconds later, Gideon, who had been sitting on the rim of the fence, jumped down. ‘It’s OK. She’s gone now.’

  Georgie turned round. ‘Why would she—’ he began.

  ‘She was just checking that we’re not bullying you,’ said Billy, giving him a playful smack on the side of his head.

  In May, it was time to get new ration books again. On previous occasions, everyone had to queue at the town hall. The authorities made it as easy as possible by spreading the letters of the alphabet over certain days, but everyone had to watch the newspapers to find out which particular day their name was available. It didn’t work. There were always people who forgot or turned up on the wrong day. This time, it was a lot easier because the council deployed travelling vans. As she was registered in the town, Stella was forced to return to Worthing for her new book. She had no home of her own, but it was good to meet up with old friends. Johnny had gone back, but she got regular letters now. There was still the fear that he might be killed before it all ended, but Stella was back to her old self. Moving in with Phyllis in Broadwater helped a lot.

  ‘We heard that Johnny made it home,’ Pip said when they met up again. ‘I bet it was an absolute joy to see him.’

  ‘It was,’ said Stella. She felt a little coy talking about it. ‘We had a day and a half together.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Pip sympathized as she pushed up her turban, which was falling over her eyes. They were in one of her shops and she was busy wiping out a cupboard to get ready for a new tenant. ‘That’s rotten luck.’

  ‘What about you?’ Stella asked. ‘Do you miss being in the Sussex Sisters?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ said Pip. ‘I miss being with you and Lillian, but it was quite hard to find babysitters and things.’

  ‘We never gave it much thought,’ said Stella apologetically. ‘Lillian has Dorcas, but of course you were on your own. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Being thoughtless.’

  Pip smiled. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ She resumed battle with the cupboard. The previous tenant had ob
viously dropped something slimy inside. Pip still had no news of Peter. It seemed extraordinary that she had been in the dark for so long. Stella admired her tenacity. Peter had disappeared behind Japanese lines over two years ago. At the cinema, the newsreels were littered with stories of Japanese atrocities. Of course, no one mentioned that to Pip, though she most likely knew all about it.

  ‘Can I do something to help?’ asked Stella.

  ‘You’ve got your nice clothes on.’

  ‘You must have an apron somewhere.’ She found one hanging on a nail on the back door. When she put it on, Stella wasn’t sure if she’d get more dirt from the apron than the cleaning. ‘Have you heard any more from that sister of yours?’ she asked as she returned with a scrubbing brush from under the sink.

  ‘Absolutely nothing,’ said Pip.

  ‘And are you OK with that?’

  Pip shrugged. ‘It hurts, I can’t deny that, especially when it comes to Mum, but what can I do?’

  Stella set about cleaning the countertop. ‘What are you going to do with this place when it’s ready?’

  ‘I’ve already got another tenant lined up,’ said Pip. ‘Mrs Hollick is opening up a wool shop.’

  ‘Proper little businesswoman,’ Stella teased.

  ‘Oh, I have one or two irons in the fire,’ Pip grinned. ‘I quite enjoy a challenge.’

  ‘Mrs Hollick – is she the woman whose little girl had the party?’ Stella asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Pip. ‘Sarah’s at school now, so her mum thought she’d have a go.’

  ‘Has she got a husband?’

  Pip shook her head. ‘He was a fisherman. He was killed when his boat hit a mine.’

  Stella shuddered. ‘Damned war,’ she muttered.

  Lillian and Nigel were getting careless. When they first embarked on their romance, they went to out-of-the-way places and made sure that Lillian had a reason for being late or staying with a friend. She was so comfortable with Nigel it was hard not to let it show. Despite six months passing by, their passion for each other hadn’t abated one bit, which was why it was inevitable that they would be found out.

  Dorcas was on duty on High Salvington, but when she got there, there had been a mix-up with the duty roster. Emily Cooke was already in the hide doing the observations. There were plenty of planes going over towards France, but the number of German bombers had slowed down recently. Now, the biggest fear came from robot-plane raids. The aerial jet-engine plane was pilotless and shaped like a Spitfire. Called a V1, it was painted in a dark colour and flew at low level on a straight course. An orange flame at the rear of the robot was the only visible part at night, and when they appeared, RAF Typhoon fighters were kept very busy over the Southern counties. When the engine stopped, the plane was little more than a flying bomb, and there were reports of people having only five to fifteen seconds to take cover before it exploded.

  ‘You should be on duty tomorrow,’ said Dorcas as she lifted the canvas blackout.

  ‘I asked to change,’ said Emily.

  ‘There’s nothing on the noticeboard.’

  ‘My gran died,’ said Emily. ‘I have to go to the funeral tomorrow.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘She lived in Emsworth. I told Mr Sallis I couldn’t get back on time.’

  Mr Sallis was full of apologies when Dorcas reported to his hut a little further down the hill. Faced with such a heart-rending story, what could she do?

  ‘That girl of yours singing tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Not tonight,’ said Dorcas, turning her bicycle round. ‘If she was, I’d be babysitting.’

  ‘You must be very proud of her.’

  Dorcas smiled. ‘I am.’

  The drone of an aircraft engine distracted him and he hurried to the observation hide.

  Dorcas biked back to Worthing. It might be quite nice to have an evening with her daughter. They didn’t get many of them now that Lillian was accepting more engagements.

  She didn’t call out when she went in. She didn’t want to wake Flora. There was a light under the sitting-room door and she pushed it open and got the shock of her life. Lillian lay on the sofa, her legs akimbo. Nigel was across her, his trousers and underpants halfway down his bare bottom.

  ‘Oh!’ Dorcas cried.

  ‘Mum!’ cried Lillian as she tried to sit up and cover her naked breasts. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

  Nigel sprang up, almost losing his trousers altogether.

  Dorcas glared at her daughter. ‘Make yourself respectable, madam,’ she hissed. ‘And you,’ she said, turning to Nigel, ‘get out of my house.’

  Lillian and Nigel dressed hurriedly; then she hustled him towards the front door.

  ‘Let me talk to her,’ Dorcas heard him say.

  ‘She won’t listen,’ Lillian whispered. ‘Let me handle it.’

  Dorcas felt the cold air as Lillian opened the front door.

  ‘Remind her she was young once,’ Nigel said, and Dorcas bristled.

  ‘I will, I will,’ said Lillian. ‘Now go.’

  Dorcas heard them kiss.

  When she came into the kitchen, Dorcas could hardly look at her daughter. Her heart was pumping hard. She had never felt so angry or betrayed.

  ‘How dare you!’ Dorcas spat. ‘And in my house too.’

  ‘Mum, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry!’ Dorcas exclaimed. ‘How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Mum, please don’t be angry,’ said Lillian. ‘You don’t understand. We love each other.’

  ‘You’re a married woman,’ cried Dorcas.

  ‘And whose fault is that?’ Lillian retorted. ‘If you hadn’t made me—’

  She was silenced by a stinging blow to the side of her face. Lillian reeled backwards from her mother’s hand.

  ‘I should have thought you’d learned your lesson the last time,’ Dorcas spluttered. ‘This has always been a respectable family, but here you are behaving like a guttersnipe, with your own daughter upstairs.’

  ‘You’ve got no right to hit me like that,’ Lillian shouted. ‘What gives you the right to be holier than thou? Are you so perfect?’

  Dorcas glared at her daughter. ‘Your father was the only man I ever knew in the biblical sense. I met him at seventeen and I never, ever looked at another man. But you – you take your knickers down at the drop of a hat. Well, let me tell you, if you bring any more trouble on yourself, you’re on your own, my girl.’ She stopped for a minute to draw breath before adding, ‘And as soon as you can find a place of your own, you can get out.’

  Now Lillian was angry. ‘Oh, so you would throw your own granddaughter on the streets, would you?’

  ‘I’m not talking about Flora,’ said Dorcas. ‘She’s got a home here with me for as long as she needs one. I’m talking about you and that fancy man of yours.’

  Lillian was beginning to feel uneasy. This was getting out of control. Everybody knew how difficult it was to find a decent place to live these days. She had a nice home here with her mother and a built-in babysitter. If she left home, she would take Flora with her, of course, but how would she manage her growing stage commitments with no one to help look after her? Her mother was angry. It was unreasonable but understandable. She’d been embarrassed. ‘Mum, please don’t do this.’

  Her mind was already moving forward. She would have to be more careful. If she did get pregnant with Nigel, what would she do? She couldn’t marry him even if she wanted to, not with Gordon still around. And what if it got out that she’d been unfaithful with Nigel? Gordon might take Flora away from her.

  ‘Mum?’

  Dorcas was standing by the sink, her hands resting on the draining board and her back to Lillian. ‘I don’t want that man in my house again.’

  ‘OK,’ said Lillian. ‘I’ll tell him to stay away.’ She put out her hand to touch her mother’s shoulder, but Dorcas moved aside.

  ‘And I’m telling you now,’ said Dorcas stubbornly, ‘if you end up in the family way, you’re on your ow
n.’

  Dorcas heard her daughter leave the kitchen and relaxed her shoulders. She caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall. Her face was white and she looked old. She wasn’t crying. The women of her generation had learned years ago that crying solved nothing, but she could feel a lump in her chest the size of a brick. Lillian, oh, Lillian, why do you have to play with fire? She closed her eyes and put her head back. ‘Please God, don’t let her get into trouble again.’

  CHAPTER 26

  Since returning to Broadwater in August, Stella hadn’t been feeling too well. At the beginning of the school term, she had started a teaching post in the cookery school on Richmond Road. Her students were school leavers who had a flair for domestic science and were destined for jobs in factory canteens and hospital kitchens. The course itself was comprehensive, taking in the preparation and management of food, health and first aid, personal finance, textiles and the care of clothes, hospitality and family life. The students also learned basic housekeeping skills, such as how to mend a fuse and change the washer on a tap. She taught them how to clean work surfaces, remove hard-water deposits with acid solutions, grease with alkaline solutions and which cleaning agents become toxic if mixed together. They took turns to cook meals, and Stella taught them good kitchen hygiene and how to make the meagre rations into filling and nutritious meals.

  The problem was, certain foods made her feel nauseous, and she was constantly tired, so Stella made an appointment to see Dr Kirkwood. He gave her a thorough examination, and while she dressed behind the screen, he washed his hands.

  ‘I would say we are looking towards the end of February,’ he said, sitting at his desk.

  ‘February?’

  He looked up at her. ‘Surely you know?’ he said. ‘Mrs Bell, you are four and a half months pregnant.’

  Stella stared at him blankly. Pregnant? Of course! How could she have been so stupid? She’d never given it a thought. Her periods had always been a bit erratic. When was the last time she had one? Before Johnny came back. Yes, it must have been. The doctor was droning on and on about midwives and not overdoing it, but she wasn’t taking anything in. A baby. She was going to have Johnny’s baby.