by Anna King
Danny’s face fell. Shaking his head sadly, he murmured, ‘I know, I know, Stan. There’s no need to apologise. I never got home until last week, and that was only because I was wounded… Oh, nothing serious,’ he added swiftly as he saw Stanley scan his body for apparent injury. ‘Just a flesh wound in my leg. It’s healed now, but I’ve still got another six days before I’m due back. I was just off down the pub for a drink…’ Again his voice faltered. His face etched in confused guilt, he added, ‘I asked Gracie if she minded, and she said—’
Stanley’s hand came out to clasp Danny’s shoulder reassuringly.
‘Give over, Danny. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It ain’t none of me business what you do, but Sam would’ve been the first one to tell you not to dwell on it too long.’
Danny looked into the broad face eagerly. ‘That’s what Gracie said… I don’t suppose you fancy coming with me for a quick one, do you, Stan? I don’t like drinking on my own… Oh, no, of course you don’t,’ he said awkwardly. ‘You want to get off and see Grace, don’t you… Maybe later?’ he added hopefully.
‘Yeah, of course, mate. I’ll have to see what Grace says, so I ain’t promising, but I’ll see what I can do, all right?’ Jerking his head back, he asked hesitantly, ‘How they bearing up…?’
Danny’s head shook sorrowfully.
‘Same as you’d expect, I suppose. Aggie seems much the same, though from what the neighbours say she was in a state when it happened. She’s not in at the moment. I heard her go out earlier on with one of the neighbours. They’ve probably gone to see what food they can buy or scrounge. I’ve hardly seen Vi, she’s always in and out of the house. Nothing’s changed there, eh?’ He attempted a watery smile. ‘Polly’s the one who’s taken it the hardest… But, here, I’m keeping you from Grace. I’m sure she’ll give you all the news better than I can. She’s been great, has Gracie. I don’t know what the family would have done without her – nor me, come to that. But, look, you get off. And if you can persuade Grace… well, I’ll be in the Hare and Hounds. See you later, Stan.’
Danny stopped, then gripped Stanley’s hand tight, and when Stanley saw the emotion starting to build in the portly face he disengaged his hand firmly but kindly and, swinging his kit-bag back up over his shoulder, said, ‘Yeah, see you later, Danny.’
Marching off down the road, Stanley blew out his cheeks in profound relief. That was one out of the way. Now he had to face the rest of the family and he was dreading it. Since joining the army Stanley had seen a lot of death and was surprised at how quickly he had become immune to it. But this was different. He had been genuinely fond of Sam and Hetty, even though he had felt overwhelmed by them at times. When Grace had written to say they had been killed, he had been gobsmacked, then he had tried every trick in the book to get some leave, without success – until now, and then it was only a forty-eight-hour pass. Still, he told himself, it’s better than nothing.
Striding down the familiar street, Stanley stopped outside number one, Paddy’s Castle, and found himself relieved to find it still intact, even though he knew he’d have known if any misfortune had befallen it from his meeting with Danny.
Dropping the kit-bag once more, Stanley stepped back and let his eyes roam over the house he had dreamt of for the past year. Then, with the start of the Blitz, the nightmares had started, where he returned to find a mass of smouldering rubble, and no Grace. Here! Here! Snap outta it, mate, he chided himself sternly. The house is still standing, and Grace is waiting for you inside.
But Sam and Hetty aren’t. And things will never be the same again, a little voice in his head reminded him.
Bracing himself for the emotional reunion that faced him, Stanley puffed out his chest, took a deep breath and knocked loudly on the stout wooden door.
* * *
Grace was just coming up the basement steps when the knocking started. Tutting with annoyance, she debated whether or not to ignore it, then felt ashamed at her reaction. It was probably one of the neighbours knocking to ask if she needed anything.
Placing the tray that contained the remains of her and Polly’s afternoon tea on the hall table, she brushed back a stray wisp of hair from her forehead and opened the door, her jaw dropping in disbelief when she saw who was standing on the doorstep.
‘Stanley!’ She screamed in delight, before being swept up into strong arms and carried down the hallway. Crying and laughing she clung on to the uniformed body wildly, not believing what was happening.
But before she could get her breath, another loud cry filled the hall, and there, standing behind them looking like a lost waif, stood Polly, her eyes and mouth wide as she beheld the entwined couple. Her mouth opened and closed futilely, then the tears began to course down her sunken cheeks. Grace saw her sister shuffle towards them and felt her throat tighten at the sight she must present to Stanley. Quashing the thought that she would have liked a few minutes of privacy with Stanley, she beckoned her sister, and when Stanley’s arms enveloped both women, the three of them broke down unashamedly, letting their grief wash over them like a healing balm.
* * *
The public bar in the Hare and Hounds was almost empty at this time of the evening, and Danny, feeling a little self-conscious, was about to finish off his beer and leave when he became aware of someone standing at his table. Looking up he saw Beryl Lovesett, the resident barmaid, and immediately made to rise.
‘Oh, hello, Beryl. Sorry, were you waiting on my glass?’ Danny floundered hopelessly.
‘Gawd help us, Danny. I ain’t after your glass. I was just coming over to say hello an’ to ask how you were keeping. Can I join yer?’
Almost falling off his chair, Danny leapt to his feet, spluttering, ‘What! Oh, yes, of course you can, Beryl. Please, sit down.’ When the woman was seated Danny sat back down, then, his eyes darting to the bar, asked nervously, ‘Is it all right? I mean, you won’t get into trouble, will you?’
Beryl laughed gaily. ‘Course I won’t, yer silly devil. It’s me break, an’ I’ll ’ave a port an’ lemon if you’re asking.’
Again Danny stumbled to his feet, his hands going instantly to his pocket for his wallet.
‘Yes, of course. Just a minute, I’ll be right back. Um… Right then, a port and lemon coming up.’
Watching the bumbling man make his way to the bar, his face as red as a beetroot, Beryl made herself more comfortable. Taking a cigarette from a small packet of Capstans, she inserted it between blood-red lips, her brown eyes narrowing as the smoke filtered up to her attractive face.
Beryl Lovesett was thirty-three, with blond hair straight from a bottle, a full figure, which she used to her advantage, and was, at the moment, looking for a way out of her present life. She had been working as a barmaid for over five years, always hoping that some day she would latch on to someone with a bit of money to his name. So far she had been unsuccessful in her quest. There had been no shortage of men in her life – one in particular she’d rather forget – but none had come up to her expectations. Now it looked as if her luck might be about to change. Her painted lips smiled cruelly as she recalled Danny’s obvious excitement and eagerness. Poor, pathetic bastard. He had been coming into the bar for years making sheep’s eyes at her, but she’d never given him any encouragement, looking on the plump, bashful man as a joke.
But things had changed. Now that his brother was dead, the house in Lester Road belonged to Danny Donnelly, and though she had never seen the house, she’d heard about it, and a house such as the one described must mean there was a fair bit of money that went with it. That was one consolation about working in a pub. There was never any shortage of local gossip. Of course there were still Danny’s nieces and the old girl living there, but if things went according to plan, she’d soon turf them out. This was the best chance of owning a decent house she’d ever have, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity of obtaining a cushy billet pass her by.
As Danny approached the table with the drin
ks, Beryl pasted a warm, welcoming smile on her lips. This should be a walkover. The man was obviously desperate for a woman. The only snag was he would be going back to base soon, so she would have to work fast.
The drinks were deposited on the table with shaky hands and Beryl had to lower her eyes to hide her contempt for the pathetic man trying so hard to make a good impression. Oh, this was going to be easy. Like taking sweets from a baby. Danny Donnelly was the answer to all her prayers. And the beauty of it was she wouldn’t even have a husband to worry about, because once that ring was on her finger, and Danny was back overseas and sending her half his paycheck, she’d live the life of Reilly. No more standing on her feet for twelve hours a day for a poxy wage, not if she could pull this off.
Smiling sweetly, Beryl played up to the inexperienced man, and Danny, his enthusiasm painfully evident, was soon completely bowled over by the good-looking blonde. Carefully hiding her excitement at the ease with which her newly formed plans were going, a triumphant Beryl sent Danny off for more drinks. Her scheme would never have been possible in ordinary circumstances, but these days couples were meeting and marrying within days with the aid of special licences. Oh, she’d thought it all through carefully. The only thing missing up until now had been the man himself; and now she had found him. Now all she had to do was carry it through.
It should be easy enough. After all, there was a war on, wasn’t there? And people and circumstances changed during wartime.
At closing time, slightly drunk and delighted at his good fortune, Danny walked Beryl home. And when, after he had delivered her safely to the door of her flat, she asked him to stay a while, pleading nervousness of the nightly raids, Danny was only too happy to oblige. No woman had ever treated him as Beryl was doing, and after the trauma of losing Sam and Hetty, Danny was ripe for the attentions of a woman like Beryl Lovesett.
Babbling nervously, his arms and hands jerking in pleasurable agitation, Danny unwittingly stepped into the expertly laid trap, thinking happily that his luck was finally turning for the better.
Chapter Twelve
Stanley’s short leave flew by, the majority of it spent with both Grace and Polly, much to the young couple’s annoyance. They’d had no time on their own, but Grace, seeing the change in Polly brought about by Stanley’s presence, couldn’t stay annoyed for long. Now it was the last evening, and Grace was determined to have Stanley to herself for the short time they had left. With Aggie’s help, the couple managed to creep out of the house without Polly in tow, then, like two naughty school-children, they ran to the pub holding hands, their journey interrupted by frequent stops down dark alleyways for a kiss and cuddle, the exercise leaving them both edgy and frustrated.
On arrival at the pub they were surprised to find Danny propping up the bar, his face more alive they they’d ever seen it as he engaged in deep conversation with the brassy blonde behind the counter.
‘Strewth! The sly old devil.’ Stanley grinned in amazement. ‘Looks like Danny’s got his foot well in there. I’d never have thought he had it in him. No wonder he’s been looking so pleased with himself. Mind you, he’s jumped in at the deep end with our Beryl. She’s been round the track more times than a greyhound. Still! He doesn’t seem to be complaining, does he?’
Grace watched the scene at the bar, her face set in lines of disapproval. She’d be the last one to deprive her uncle of some happiness, but not with an old brass like Beryl Lovesett. Grace didn’t know the woman, except by reputation, and none of it good, though the men would disagree on that score.
‘Oh, Gawd! Look at your face.’ Stanley was laughing down at her obvious disapproval. ‘Don’t be such a misery, Gracie. Danny ain’t doing no harm, an’ you said you wanted him to have a good time before he went back.’
Grace tossed her head impatiently. ‘Don’t be so silly, Stan,’ she said sharply. ‘Uncle Danny wouldn’t know how to cope with a woman like that.’
Stanley, his face still wearing a boyish grin, answered gleefully, ‘Well, he don’t look as if he’s doing too badly from where I’m standing.’
And he was right. Grace had never seen her uncle act in the manner he was adopting now. It was obvious to all watching that something was going on between the barmaid and the eager customer, and suddenly she felt uncomfortable.
‘Let’s go somewhere else, Stan.’ She pulled on Stanley’s arm. ‘I don’t want to be forced into a conversation with a woman like that.’
But Stanley had no intention of leaving. Shaking off her hand he said, ‘Now who’s being silly? You don’t even know her. She’s quite nice as a matter a fact, and a good laugh. Perhaps she’s just what Danny needs right now. Where’s the harm in it?’
Stanley was staring hard at her now, his face set in lines of disapproval at what he considered her narrow attitude. Grace saw the condemnation in her fiancé’s eyes and looked away. Maybe he was right. After all, her uncle would be leaving in a couple of days. And, as Stanley said, where was the harm in it!
Allowing herself to be led over to the bar, she went to stand by Danny, her manner awkward.
‘Hello, Uncle Danny,’ she said in a stilted voice.
‘Wotcher, Danny, how’s it going?’ Stanley, no sign of embarrassment on his face, winked suggestively at the startled Danny.
‘Oh, um, hello, you two. I didn’t know you were coming here tonight.’ Danny, his new-found confidence slipping away, shuffled his feet and looked to the watching barmaid for support.
Beryl, quick to notice the disapproval on the young woman’s face, felt her backbone stiffen in anticipation of trouble. She knew Grace by sight, though the young woman hadn’t been in the pub for well over a year now. And it was apparent that the snooty piece didn’t think much of her uncle’s choice in women friends. Well, she was in for a few more surprises, wasn’t she! Beryl’s hard eyes raked Grace from top to bottom, taking in the royal blue swagger coat and the light blue two-piece costume beneath it. The girl was a looker all right, Beryl conceded reluctantly, and she knew how to dress. Both the coat and costume were a couple of years old, but of good quality and showed off the girl’s glossy nut-brown hair and blue eyes perfectly. And it was the eyes that held Beryl’s attention, for they were fixed on her in open dislike. Taken off-guard by the open hostility, Beryl swallowed hard, then turned her attention to the men. Nodding to Danny she uttered a shrill laugh, so false and grating it set Grace’s teeth on edge.
‘D’yer want another one in there, love?’ she asked familiarly, while at the same time stroking the back of Danny’s hand. The gesture wasn’t lost on Grace, who visibly bridled at the blatant display of intimacy. Beryl saw Grace’s look of discomfort and renewed her efforts. Turning to the good-looking man by Grace’s side, she batted her eyelashes, stuck out her chest and said cloyingly, ‘It’s Stan Slater, ain’t it? You ain’t been in here much lately, but I never forget a face, ’specially a good-looking one.’ Again she let out a braying laugh, this time with both men joining in.
Grace could only stand and stare in amazement. What was the matter with men? They only had to have some woman make a fuss of them and they lapped it up like puppies at their bowls. Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw the look of triumph on the painted face and smiled grimly. So, all this was for her benefit, was it? All right then, let the old trout have it her way for the evening. By this time next week, both men would be gone. She’d be a fool to spend Stanley’s last night in conflict with a woman she would probably never see again unless she came back to the pub, and that wasn’t likely once Stanley had gone back to the army.
Slipping her arm through Stanley’s, Grace, smiling archly, said, ‘Yes, he is quite handsome, isn’t he? I’ll have to keep an eye on him. Some women will go after anything in trousers, you know the type.’
Both men fidgeted with embarrassment, yet to Grace’s astonishment her normally docile uncle turned on her, saying sharply, ‘You’re not being very pleasant, Grace. Beryl is a friend of mine, and I’ll thank you to be civi
l.’
Deeply shocked that her beloved uncle could turn on her, Grace lowered her head in confusion. Oh, God! Why had they come here tonight of all nights? All she’d wanted to do was spend some time with Stanley, and now it had all gone wrong. She looked to Stanley for reassurance, but found his gaze, too, was filled with accusation. She would have fled from the pub had not Stanley taken her arm and led her to a corner, depositing her none too gently on to a rickety chair.
Bending down he hissed, ‘What’s up with you? The poor old sod finally gets himself a girlfriend and all you can do is take cheap shots at her. Well, it ain’t on, Gracie. Not all women went to posh schools and were brought up in good homes, you know. And they weren’t all lucky enough to get a job in a fancy office working with toffs and toffee-nosed bitches in tailored suits. Now I’m going back to the bar to get us some drinks. Then I’m gonna invite Danny to join us, and his lady friend when she gets a break. So try and be nice to her, for Danny’s sake, all right?’ With that he stormed off, his back held rigid the way it always was when he was annoyed.
Grace slumped back on the chair, her eyes filling with tears. Not because Stanley had told her off, that had never worried her overly, but because it didn’t take much to set her off these days. And Stanley knew that. So why had he taken that woman’s side against her? Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. She’d a good mind to leave and let the pair of them fawn over the made-up tart to their heart’s content. But Stanley would only come after her and start another row. No! As much as it went against the grain, she would just have to grin and bear it for the evening, for everyone’s sake.
So when a hesitant Danny appeared at the table, she smiled up at him warmly, saying apologetically, ‘Sorry, Uncle Danny, I didn’t mean to be rude to your friend. Will she be joining us for a drink later? I’d like to apologise properly.’