by Pam Weaver
My darling Johnny,
Forgive the small writing and the fact it’s so close together. I want to get as much as possible on the page. I never thought we would be apart for so long when I waved you goodbye way back in 1940. I honestly believed it would only be for a few months, until Christmas at the most. I lived for your letters, and when they stopped after you’d escaped, I found it very hard to bear. This time, although our separation is still dreadful for me, I know I shall get through it.
I shall never forget our time in Pulborough. It was all too short, but Johnny, my darling, it has changed our lives forever. After all this time, and all the years before the war of trying, it’s happened at last. You told me at the station that you hadn’t had the time to go and buy me something special – something for me to remember you by. But, my darling, you have given me something much more precious than anything money can buy. Johnny, I am expecting your baby. He or she will be born at the end of February, so it looks as if 1945 will be a very special year for us. I do hope you will be home and the war will have ended long before then, but even if you aren’t home and it hasn’t ended, I shall tell our baby all about his or her wonderful daddy, what a lovely man he is and how much I really and truly love him.
The teaching post is most enjoyable. I am living with Mother at the moment. Desmond and Judith are overjoyed about the baby and fuss over me like a couple of old hens. The officers billeted in Salisbury Road move out at Christmas. My plan is to finish work then, which gives me two months to get the house ready for when baby comes.
Dr Kirkwood says I am very fit and healthy, so I should have no problems with the birth. My two dear friends Lillian and Pip are sure to start knitting, so baby will have plenty of warm clothes to wear. Pip is an excellent knitter, but I’m not so sure about Lillian! By Christmas, I shall be the size of a house, so any talk about reviving the Sussex Sisters has gone out of the window. It doesn’t much matter. Pip seems to be getting on with her life, and Lillian is in great demand. I think she’ll be on the radio in no time.
I’d better close now. I am scribbling this in bed and it’s past eleven o’clock. Baby sends a kiss, or is that a kick?
All my best love,
Stella
Georgie entered a competition. He had to find a slogan for Salute the Soldier Day, which was to be held in Homefield Park on Saturday September 9th. Lillian was singing during the celebration, so everyone had pinned their hopes on his success. The slogan had to be eight words or under. Pip insisted that Georgie should think of the slogan himself, but she was on hand to give advice. The top prize was seven pounds, well worth having for an eight-year-old boy. It was hard work, but eventually he came up with ‘They gave everything. Will you give something?’ Pip was quite impressed.
The girls had decided to be there when Lillian sang in the fund-raising concert in support of the British soldier. Even though everyone’s mind was fixed on what was happening on the other side of the Channel, it was a good day. The weather was more settled and the crowds gathered. There were donkey rides, egg-and-spoon races and knobbly knees contests, which caused a lot of hilarity. While the children were enjoying themselves in the sandpit, Stella told them her news. Lillian and Pip were over the moon.
‘Pregnant! Oh, Stella, that’s wonderful!’ cried Pip. ‘When is it due?’
‘End of February,’ said Stella. Already she was basking in the warm glow of pregnancy. ‘I shall stay in the cookery school until Christmas and then I’ll give up work.’
‘Hopefully Johnny will be back home by then,’ said Lillian. ‘The war must end soon, especially now that Paris has been liberated.’
‘Everything seems to be winding down, doesn’t it,’ said Stella. ‘Six months ago, we wouldn’t have had an occasion like this.’
‘There’s still a lot of fighting over there,’ Pip cautioned, ‘and nobody knows when the war will end in the Far East.’
The girls made no comment, but Stella squeezed Pip’s arm.
‘Are your mum and Flora here?’ asked Pip.
Lillian shook her head. ‘Mum said she had things to do at home. I left Flora playing in Mrs Armitage’s garden.’
‘Oh no,’ cried Pip. ‘If I had known, she could have come with me.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Lillian. She felt slightly guilty, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Flora would have enjoyed being with the others, but what with getting ready for her performance, she hadn’t given it a thought.
Behind them, they heard a shout. Mr Knight, Iris and Betty had turned up.
‘What time are you on?’ asked Iris, once the introductions were over.
For a second, Lillian seemed mildly irritated. Pip was aware that Mr Knight followed her everywhere, and Lillian had remarked, rather unkindly, Pip thought, that he was beginning to look like a faithful old dog. After she’d said that, Pip had begun to notice that there were times when he stood a little too close to Lillian. He’d never touched her or anything, but it was embarrassing the way he latched on to her.
Lillian looked at her watch. ‘Ooh, ten minutes. I’d better head off.’
‘We’ve been looking forward to this,’ said Betty, ‘and you couldn’t have picked a better day for it.’
‘Let’s hope they make a lot of money,’ said Mr Knight, looking around at all the families enjoying themselves.
‘I’m sure they will,’ Lillian smiled as Nigel hurried over to tell her it was almost time to go on stage. ‘Wish me luck,’ she said as she went with him.
‘Break a leg,’ Pip called after her.
Lillian turned for a second to wave and then looked up at Nigel. As she watched them, Stella felt a stab of discomfort. She glanced over at Pip and saw the same concern in her eyes too. Neither of them actually voiced anything, but Stella was sure they had both had the same thought. There was something going on between Nigel and Lillian. She replayed the last few minutes over in her mind. The way she looked at him. The way he spoke to her. He’d only said, ‘It’s time to get ready, Lillian,’ but there was something in his voice. Something unmistakable, a tenderness, a warmth not apparent in other conversations. She didn’t want to believe it, but there was no doubt about it: Nigel and Lillian were in love.
After the performance, Iris and Betty sat in the tea tent. Mr Knight had offered to buy them a cup of tea and was getting it right now. The two women looked at each other long and hard. Iris was the first to break the silence.
‘You saw it too,’ she said. ‘The way she looked at that pianist?’
Betty nodded. ‘I hope it wasn’t what I’m thinking.’
‘If it is, it’s disgusting,’ said Iris. ‘She should be ashamed of herself, a married woman and all.’ She sniffed and looked away. ‘After that party at Mrs Bell’s house, I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but not any longer.’
‘Oh, I know, dear,’ said Betty. ‘If anyone believed in her, it was you.’
Iris let out a long sigh. ‘It seems I was right all along. I feel a right fool now.’
‘You know what they say,’ said Betty. ‘Them that lives longest sees most.’ Iris frowned as if she was trying to work that one out. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear,’ Betty went on. ‘You’ve got a good and generous heart.’
They turned their heads towards the tea counter. Mr Knight was coming back with a tray of tea and cakes.
‘Better not mention anything to him,’ Iris counselled.
‘My lips are sealed,’ said Betty.
Halfway through the afternoon, everyone crowded round the makeshift stage for the announcement of the winner of the Slogan for a Soldier Competition. Sadly, Georgie’s effort didn’t win. The slogan chosen was ‘Invest all you have to back the soldier.’
‘That doesn’t have nearly as good a ring to it as Georgie’s,’ said Stella.
Pip sighed. ‘He’ll be very disappointed.’
When Georgie snuck off down the alleyway that evening, there was a large ‘for sale’ board in the gr
ounds of the derelict house. He was going to mention it straight away, but Norman Peabody had turned up with a real German revolver.
‘Where did you get that?’ Georgie gasped.
‘My brother,’ said Norman. ‘He came home on leave, and when he went back, I found it in his wardrobe.’
‘Got any ammo?’ Gideon asked.
Norman shrugged. ‘Dunno. Might have.’
‘Go and have a look,’ said Billy.
‘I’ll have to wait until my mum’s out,’ said Norman. ‘She doesn’t like me going up into his room.’
Georgie was gutted. Until then, the tail fin Brian and Christopher had given him when he went to Pulborough had been the gang’s best trophy. Gideon, who was the fount of all knowledge, had told them it was the sort of thing they dropped on London. Brian and Christopher had also given Georgie a couple of Nazi badges they’d found in the fields after two airmen had parachuted down and been arrested two miles away at Bury Hill. They’d had pride of place on the mantelpiece – until now. The real revolver knocked everything else into a cocked hat and there it stood, leaning against the wall and facing the door.
Norman gave them a smirk. ‘My mum don’t like me going into my brother’s room on account of these.’
He threw three magazines onto the table.
‘What are they?’ Billy asked.
‘Naked women,’ said Norman.
‘Ugh,’ said Georgie, making a sick noise, but much to his surprise, the other boys pounced on them. ‘Let me have a look,’ Georgie said, trying to grab one.
‘You can’t look,’ said Gideon. ‘You’re much too young for that sort of thing.’
Georgie watched as the other boys compared pictures and giggled over the girls. From what he could see, they weren’t up to much anyway. And they weren’t naked either. They may be lying on a rock with no clothes on, but they had a wispy bit of gauze across their legs. What was so exciting about that?
As soon as everyone, except Georgie, had had a proper look, they got on to the subject of the ‘for sale’ sign outside. The DD Gang were anxious and upset.
‘Did you win the comp?’ Billy asked Georgie.
Georgie shook his head.
‘Shame,’ said Billy.
‘It was that Violet Lake,’ said Gideon. ‘It’s not fair. She always wins things.’
‘Well, she is the mayor’s niece,’ Leslie Hoare, sitting at the back, called out.
‘If you’d have got that seven pounds,’ Billy said accusingly, ‘we could have put it towards buying this place.’
Georgie felt terrible.
‘I’ve got seven and six in my moneybox,’ Lionel Brown called out.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Gideon. ‘A place like this costs fousands.’
‘But it’s falling down,’ said Lionel.
‘It’s the land,’ said Georgie sagely. They all turned to look at him. ‘That’s what my mum says. She says they’ll pull down the house so they can use the land.’
‘Maybe they’ll put up some swings and a slide.’
‘Nah,’ said Gideon. ‘They’ll put up another house more like.’
‘But that means we’ll have nowhere to put our stuff,’ cried Billy.
It was late. The house was silent. Everyone was asleep. If it was going to be done, it had to be done now. If it was ready by the morning, it could go in the post on the way to work. How long would it take to reach him? Not long now, the way things were going. Having chased the Nazis out of Brussels earlier in the month, the Allies were already in Holland. It wouldn’t be long before the British prisoners of war started returning home and it was imperative that he should know before that. The pen hovered over the page and then began to write,
Dear Gordon,
I’m very sorry to have to do this, but I thought you should know. I hate to see a good man being made to look a fool. You can tell me to mind my own business, but when a wife is out nearly every night, I think her husband has the right to be told.
I’m sure that you’ve heard that Mrs Harris used to be part of a singing group called the Sussex Sisters. I have enclosed a newspaper report for your perusal. They were very good, but now she’s taken up with the pianist and she’s gone solo. I’ve seen her in his car in evening dresses that leave little to the imagination, and the way she looks at him, I know there’s something going on. All I can say is that it’s a good job her mother is there to look after your little girl. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you should be prepared for when you come home.
A well-wisher
CHAPTER 27
Pip was just getting the children’s tea when she heard a knock on the door. She hurried to answer it and was surprised to see Terry Wilcox on the doorstep. For a split second, she felt a rush of anger. When she bought those twenty acres of land way back in 1939, he must have known they were waterlogged and useless. To her way of thought, he and his farming friend had taken advantage of her. She couldn’t blame him entirely, of course. She should have done her homework. She should have gone over there to take a look at the field for herself, but instead she had completely trusted Mr Wilcox. It never entered her head that he might be up to no good. Why should it? He was a valued customer at Peter’s shop.
‘Mr Wilcox!’ Her voice betrayed her surprise.
He lifted his hat. ‘Mrs Sinclair. I wonder if I might have a word.’
‘I was just about to get my children something to eat,’ Pip said stiffly. She wasn’t in the mood to be talked into another transaction, no matter how tempting it might be. Her savings were still a lot less than they were when she’d paid for the land. In these hard times, it was very difficult to come by any spare cash, and when she did have something left over, she felt obliged to buy war bonds. Besides, she had learned her lesson. Terry Wilcox was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
‘It won’t take a minute, dear lady,’ he said, positioning himself in such a way that she had no option but to step back and let him pass.
She showed him into the kitchen. Georgie and Hazel were playing shops in the sitting room and she didn’t want to disturb them when they were playing so nicely. When he sat at the kitchen table, she didn’t offer him refreshment but rather pointedly got on with what she had been doing.
‘It’s about them acres you bought off Tobias Light,’ he began.
Pip pretended to be confused. ‘Tobias Light? Do I know him? Oh, you mean the man who sold me that land near Durrington Station?’
‘That’s right,’ Terry smiled. She regarded him stonily. Funny but she’d never noticed before just how surreptitious his smile was. He had a shifty look in his eye as well. ‘You bought twenty acres for four pounds an acre, I believe.’ He got out his wallet. ‘Well, I would like to buy them off you.’
Pip watched him count out eighty pounds and lay them next to her teapot. When he’d finished, their eyes met and he put his wallet back into his jacket. Pip was furious, but she was careful not to let it show.
‘Actually, Mr Wilcox,’ she said, smiling sweetly, ‘I think you’ll find I paid five pounds an acre.’
‘Did you?’ he said smoothly. ‘I do beg your pardon, dear lady.’ And reaching for his wallet again, he counted some more notes onto the pile. ‘One hundred pounds.’
Pip didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Why would you want the land? You do know it’s completely useless?’
‘I know, dear lady,’ he said. ‘At the time you bought it from Tobias, I was strapped for cash. He offered me a few quid if I could find a buyer. I’m not proud of what I did to you, but it was always my intention to reimburse you the money as soon as I could. My conscience has plagued me for years, so here it is.’ His dentures dropped slightly as he spoke. ‘One hundred pounds.’
Pip hesitated. The money was tempting, but he looked so smug and she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. What was he up to? ‘I’m not sure where the paperwork is,’ she said.
‘Mrs Sinclair,’ he said smarmily, ‘we’ve known each other for a very long ti
me. I trust you. We’ll shake on the deal now and I’ll pop back in a day or two to collect the deeds.’
Pip widened her eyes in an attempt to make herself look as if she was way out of her depth. ‘My husband is very punctilious about business matters,’ she said, delighted that he seemed confused as to what the word ‘punctilious’ meant. ‘I know you trust me completely, but I must insist that we do everything the right way.’
‘I promise,’ he said, rising to his feet and putting out his hand, ‘that I won’t breathe a word of this to him. It’ll be our little secret.’
‘No,’ she said doggedly. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Wilcox, but you’ll have to come back another day.’
‘But the money is on the table,’ he protested.
‘Then please take it with you,’ she said.
‘All right,’ he said, sitting back down. ‘You drive a hard bargain, Mrs Sinclair. Six pounds an acre and that’s my final offer.’
Pip put her hand to her mouth and made a small sound, but she was only teasing him. ‘Mr Wilcox, you are not listening to me. I’ve asked you to come back another time. Now please go.’
She saw his nostrils flare. He was clearly shocked by her attitude. ‘Look here, love,’ he said, his whole demeanour changing, ‘if I have to come back again, I might not be so generous.’ He had become very red in the face.
Pip brushed past him and went into the hall. She waited for him to stuff his money back into his wallet, then walked to the door in front of him. ‘Like I say, if you come back in a day or two,’ she said politely, ‘I’m sure I’ll have found the deeds by then.’ She opened the door. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Wilcox.’
Pip closed the door behind him and stared for a minute or two at the wood. What was the old devil up to? As sure as eggs is eggs, he wasn’t settling a troubled conscience. People like Terry Wilcox didn’t have one!
For almost a month now, Lillian had sensed a certain coolness towards her when Iris was around. She was polite but not inclined to be drawn into conversation with her any more. She wondered about tackling the woman about it, but she hadn’t the stomach for it. It was bad enough at home. She and Dorcas hardly spoke to each other, and sometimes you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. Fortunately, Flora didn’t seem to notice. She was too excited about playing the innkeeper’s wife in the forthcoming school nativity play. She only had a small line to learn – ‘Come and see the infant king’ – but she’d practised it to perfection.