‘Tell me it isn’t true,’ she pleaded, but Mrs P could only hang her head.
‘I’m afraid it is, luvvie,’ she whispered, then blew her nose. ‘This war is a terrible thing an’ cruel.’
Lucy was almost beside herself with grief and when Lucy and Annabelle suddenly rushed in she could only stare at them vacantly, her face ravaged.
‘We heard what happened and felt we had to come,’ Dotty explained as she looked at Lucy with concern. ‘Oh Lucy, we’re so sorry! We all know how much you loved your little sister. We loved her too.’
Lucy laughed bitterly and they all gazed at her uncomprehendingly. Perhaps the shock had unhinged her mind?
Lucy then gazed into the fire before saying, ‘You all know that my mother died in a mental asylum, but perhaps it’s time you knew why. It was because . . . because she stabbed my father to death. He was a bully, you see.’ She shuddered as she remembered and the people in the room stared in horror.
Lucy scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands before forcing herself to go on.
‘I think it was Mary’s birth that was the final straw for her. She’d been ill in bed on and off for years – she was never strong,’ she said tremulously. ‘And one night shortly after Mary was born, Joel saw Dad hitting her and he went at him with fists flying, calling him all the names he could think of. But Dad was a big man, and he started to knock Joel about the room. That’s when Mum disappeared and when she came back,’ Lucy sucked in her breath as she relived the scene in her mind, ‘Mum was holding a knife. She screamed at Dad to leave Joel alone and called him a wicked bastard, but Dad just kept on hitting Joel again and again. So then she . . . she ran towards them and stabbed Dad in the heart. He died instantly. If she hadn’t done that, I think it would have been Joel that was killed. After that, all hell broke loose. One of the neighbours had heard the commotion and called the police, and when they arrived they arrested Mum for murder. She had no life at all with Dad, he had knocked her from pillar to post from as far back as I can remember, and me and Joel too if it came to that. Yet strangely she still loved him, and once she knew that she had killed him, something inside her just switched off. By the time they took her to court it was clear that she was mad, so they sentenced her to life in a mental asylum. That was when we moved here. Joel decided that we needed a fresh start where no one knew us . . . so now you know the truth.’
‘Dear God above.’ Mrs P was so shocked that she had to force the words out.
It was Annabelle who eventually laid her hand gently on Lucy’s shoulder as she told her, ‘I’m so sorry, Lucy. But whyever didn’t you tell us all this before? We’re your friends, we could have helped you.’ She suddenly felt very guilty as she thought of the privileged upbringing she had had while poor Lucy must have been going through hell. Her own father had cosseted and pampered her and she was ashamed of the way she had treated him. There and then she determined that she would make it up to him when he came home, God willing, if he ever did.
Dotty meanwhile was sobbing openly. Her own childhood had been lonely, but she had never suffered as Lucy must have and she wished that she could magic all the hurt away. Of course she knew that she couldn’t, but she could be there for her and she swore that she always would be.
Mr P too had tears on his cheeks after listening to the sad tale, and for a while he felt ashamed of being a male. It was just beyond him how any man could do that to a woman, especially his own precious wife.
So many things suddenly made sense now. Lucy’s reaction to the chap who had come on to her at the dance hall for a start-off. No wonder the poor girl couldn’t stand a man to touch her after seeing the way her father had treated her mother. The reason why Joel had been so fiercely protective of both Mary and Lucy. At one stage both Dotty and Annabelle had been secretly concerned that his possessiveness was a little unhealthy, but after this awful confession they could understand why. And for the girl to have to carry a secret like that trapped inside; it just didn’t bear thinking about. And now little Mary was dead and they all wondered how Lucy would cope with this new loss when she had gone through so very much already.
‘We’re your friends, Lucy, and we’ll help you to get through this together,’ Dotty promised now and Annabelle backed her up. As Mrs P looked on tearfully, she saw the strong bond that had developed between the three girls and thanked God for it. She had a feeling that in the dark days ahead, Lucy was going to need all the support she could get.
Chapter Twenty-Three
At her own insistence, Lucy travelled alone to Folkestone to identify Mary’s body. She was led into a large, bleak morgue where Mary’s body, along with a number of others, lay on cold stone slabs covered with white sheets. Some of them had name tags tied to their big toes, but others were as yet unidentified. As Lucy gazed down on her beloved girl’s ashen face, she felt as if a part of herself had died too, but she shed no tears. For now, the pain she was feeling was beyond tears.
Mary was buried in a tiny churchyard in Folkestone overlooking the sea. The Red Cross had offered to have her body transported back to Coventry but Lucy felt that there was no point. The little girl was gone and it didn’t really matter where she was laid to rest.
Mrs Broadstairs had been marvellous about the whole thing and told Lucy that she must take off as much time as she needed. Only the people that Lucy had made her dreadful confession knew the real truth and none of them would ever repeat it. Annabelle and Dotty fussed over her and pandered to her every need, but although Lucy was grateful to them, she felt dead inside. She told them her mother had never wanted Mary, yet from the moment the child had been born Lucy had adored her unconditionally. After all, it wasn’t Mary’s fault that she had been born and now that she was gone, as well as her mother, and with no word from Joel, the girl sometimes wondered if life was worth living. It was only the tender ministrations of Dotty and Annabelle that kept her going and she knew that she would never be able to repay them for their kindness.
It was as they were going to Primrose Lodge after work one evening that Annabelle told them, ‘I’m going to be twenty-one next week.’
‘Really? Then we should do something special to mark the occasion,’ Dotty said excitedly.
Annabelle reared up. ‘Huh! What is there to do? There’s warnings going off nearly every night, and even when they turn out to be false alarms you have to cope with broken sleep. Daddy promised me a big posh party but we still haven’t heard from him. It’s been months now,’ she added gloomily.
Dotty and Lucy exchanged a glance, wondering what Annabelle was most upset about. Was it the fact that she hadn’t heard from her father and had no idea of his whereabouts, or the fact that she couldn’t have a big do for her twenty-first? Annabelle could still on occasion be remarkably selfish and self-centred, although she had mellowed considerably during the time they had known her. Dotty refrained from mentioning that her own twenty-first birthday had passed without acknowledgement the week before, except from Miss Timms, who had bought her a lovely silver charm bracelet. She hadn’t even bothered to tell anyone about it, since the way she saw it, there wasn’t much to celebrate. They were all tired and the war was still raging on. Everywhere they looked, posters had been pasted up warning them that Careless Talk Costs Lives or urging them all to Make Do and Mend. Kindertransport trains containing Jewish children who were fleeing their homelands were pouring into the country and the tales of the persecution of the Jews who couldn’t escape were horrendous. Norway had been overrun by Hitler’s army, as had Belgium and Holland, and thousands of men had been slaughtered on the beaches during the Battle of Dunkirk; the country was still reeling from the shock of it.
There had been over 370 siren alerts in Coventry although only forty-one actual raids had taken place, and everyone’s spirits were low with no prospect in sight of the war ending.
Only Dotty was managing to stay cheerful as she had now been to London twice to see Robert and Paul Parsons, Laura’s husband, who was the s
enior editor at Huntes Publishing House, who were going to publish her book. Paul’s disability did not prevent him from being a force to be reckoned with: Dotty found him to be a real live wire.
‘I might decide to write under a pseudonym,’ she told them one day during their afternoon break. ‘Dorothy Kent is so boring, isn’t it? What name should I write under?’
‘Something completely different and romantic,’ Annabelle told her stoutly. ‘If you’re going to change it you may as well go for something glamorous. What about Genevieve Moriarty or something like that?’
Dotty had dissolved in a fit of laughter as she tried to imagine what Robert would say if she suggested such a name, but happy times like these were getting scarcer now.
They moved on towards Cheylesmore, each lost in their own thoughts, until Lucy noticed a stray dog scavenging in a dustbin just ahead of them. Strays were an all too regular sight across the city now as people’s homes were blown to smithereens and their pets were left without anyone to care for them.
Lucy scrabbled in her bag for the remains of the sandwich she had bought in the staff dining room that day and not bothered to finish. She had the appetite of a bird nowadays. ‘I bet he’d enjoy this. It’s only bloater paste but he looks as if he’s starving. Here, boy.’
‘Ugh, don’t encourage the scabby thing,’ Annabelle said, horrified. ‘He might have the mange or any number of different diseases. Just look at the state of the mutt. He’s absolutely filthy!’
‘So would you be filthy if you were forced to live on the streets,’ Lucy retorted as the creature took a step towards her. He seemed reluctant to come too close but when he saw the food in Lucy’s hand his hunger overcame his fear and he lurched forward, snatched it off her, gulped it down, then wagged his tail as he looked at her expectantly.
‘Ah, he’s still hungry,’ Lucy said sadly.
‘So what?’ Annabelle retorted cold-heartedly. ‘So are the hundreds of other strays roaming around the city. And we can’t feed them all, can we?’
Dotty dug her in the ribs then and glowered at her, and Annabelle piped down. Dotty meanwhile was thrilled to see Lucy showing an interest in something again, even if it was only a stray dog.
Lucy had bent to stroke him by then and his tail was going ten to the dozen as he lapped up the attention. He wasn’t the prettiest of animals, she had to admit. In fact, he was a real mongrel. He was of medium size with legs that looked too short for his thin body, which was short-haired whilst his long ears and his tail were bushy. It was hard to decide what colour he was too under all the layers of dirt, but when he looked up at her from trusting soulful brown eyes Lucy felt something inside her stir into life. He was helpless and vulnerable just as Mary had been, and in that moment she knew that she was going to take him home and care for him.
‘I’m going to adopt him,’ she stated and Annabelle almost choked.
‘Adopt him? You must be mad! If you must have a pet, surely you could choose a prettier one?’
‘He will be pretty when he’s had a bath and a brush,’ Lucy said with a determined glint in her eye. ‘He’s coming home with me and that’s the end of it. I just have to work out how I’m going to get him there now, but I’ll walk him home if I have to.’
‘But you don’t even have a collar and lead,’ Dotty pointed out sensibly and Lucy’s face fell. ‘And although he’s scrawny, he’ll be too heavy for you to carry him far.’
Lucy nodded, knowing when she was beaten, but it broke her heart to leave him to fend for himself.
‘Sorry, boy.’ She scratched him beneath his chin and he arched his back with pleasure. She sighed. ‘Come on then. We may as well get on. I just hope that he’ll be all right.’
Annabelle sighed with relief, glad that Lucy had come to her senses. But her relief turned to astonishment when the dog fell into step with Lucy and began to trot along beside her.
Lucy chuckled with delight. ‘Looks like I don’t need a collar and lead. I think he’s made his mind up too.’
Annabelle sniffed. ‘Well, he’ll have to stay outside when we get home,’ she said irritably, thinking that Lucy had lost her marbles. ‘There’s no way Mummy is going to allow him into the house smelling like that! He could be covered in fleas as well, ugh!’ She marched on, hoping that the dog would get fed up of following them, but by the time Primrose Lodge came into sight he was still ambling along with his eyes fixed adoringly on Lucy.
‘Actually, I think he could be quite cute if he were to be cleaned up a bit,’ Dotty smiled.
Annabelle snorted. ‘It would take more than a clean-up to improve that ugly creature!’
They were walking up the drive to Annabelle’s home by then and Lucy began to feel nervous. What if Miranda was horrified at the sight of him? But then she decided that if this were the case she would just set off and walk him home. It was a good way off admittedly, but if the poor thing had been roaming the streets he was probably used to walking long distances by now.
They decided to enter by the back door and as they went through the gate they found Miranda on her knees in the garden pruning the roses.
She smiled in welcome, but as her eyes settled on the dog she asked, ‘So who is this then, and where did he come from?’
‘He’s a stray and I’m going to adopt him,’ Lucy answered with her chin in the air. She was expecting Miranda to scold her as Annabelle had, but to her surprise the woman’s eyes filled with sympathetic tears.
‘Oh the poor thing,’ she muttered as she hurried up the path to stroke him. ‘There are so many strays about now, it’s heartbreaking. He looks as if he’s starving. Bring him into the kitchen and I’m sure we can find him something to eat.’
Annabelle’s mouth gaped in amazement. ‘But he smells like an open sewer!’ she objected.
‘Ah, but he won’t if we give him a good bath, will he?’ Miranda appeared to be almost as enamoured of the little dog as Lucy was. ‘But first things first – let’s get him fed, bless him. I think I’ve got some corned beef and a cold potato or two left over from last night.’
Within minutes the new arrival was wolfing down his meal as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Meanwhile Miranda had fetched the old tin bath from the shed and was filling it with warm water.
‘You’ll have to give him a name,’ she told Lucy. ‘We can’t just call him Dog, can we?’
‘Hmm . . .’ Lucy stared thoughtfully off into space for a moment before saying, ‘I think I’ll call him Harry. It was my grandpa’s name and he was such a lovely man.’
‘I think it suits him,’ Miranda agreed but Annabelle had to be contrary.
‘You can’t call a dog Harry,’ she objected. ‘It’s a person’s name. What’s wrong with Rover?’
‘Nothing at all, but I like Harry and that’s what I’m going to call him.’
‘Then Harry it is,’ Miranda said as she coaxed the dog towards the bath.
Fifteen minutes later, with his fur – which they saw now was a lovely red-gold colour – gleaming, Harry was unrecognisable. He had been dried and brushed to within an inch of his life, and although he was still frighteningly thin, even Annabelle grudgingly had to admit that he was actually quite cute.
‘See! Didn’t I tell you he was lovely?’ Lucy laughed as she bent to his level and hugged him. He returned her show of affection by licking every inch of her he could reach.
Meanwhile Miranda looked on happily. Lucy had been so quiet and depressed since she had lost Mary that it was wonderful to see her smiling again.
As always she fussed over the girls and raced about fetching them tea and biscuits and Dotty couldn’t help but be a little envious. Miranda was much as she had always liked to imagine her own mother might have been, and often she couldn’t help but think that Annabelle took her for granted.
‘I ought to be thinking of getting back now,’ Lucy said eventually as the light outside began to wane. ‘I don’t want to be out in the open on the way home with Harry if there’s another air-
raid warning tonight.’
They all became solemn then. The warnings had been so frequent of late that a lot of people were now choosing to sleep through them in their own beds and ignore the sirens. Sadly it had cost some of them their lives when the Germans had dropped their bombs on the city. Almost every night, Miranda had found herself in some church hall with the other WVS volunteers, tending the sick and catering to the homeless, and she was glad to do it. At least while she was busy she did not have time to fret about her husband. There was still no news from him, but each day she managed to persuade herself that no news was good news and that he was safe wherever he was.
‘I shall run you and Harry home tonight,’ Miranda told Lucy now. ‘It’s too far for you to walk.’
‘Oh no, I can’t let you do that,’ Lucy objected. ‘Petrol is too precious to waste on that.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ Miranda fetched her car keys from the pot on the dresser then told her, ‘Come along, young lady. I won’t take no for an answer so let’s get Harry into the car. There’s a dry towel he can sit on here. And isn’t it tomorrow you lot are all going to see Gone With the Wind at the Rex?’
When the girls nodded she went on, ‘Then in that case I don’t mind looking after Harry, if you’re worried about leaving him on his own.’
‘Thank you, but I’m hoping that Mrs P will volunteer,’ Lucy explained. ‘I’m going to have to ask her if she’ll let him out in the day for me while I’m at work too,’ she confided, ‘Between you and me I don’t think she’ll object too much. She used to have a dog of her own when we first moved next door to her and she really loved him. Sadly he died of old age a couple of years ago and I know that Mrs P was heartbroken and really missed him, so I’m hoping that she’ll enjoy having Harry about. She doesn’t have anyone else to spoil at the minute.’
Her face became sad then and they all knew that she was thinking of Mary, so Miranda said hastily, ‘Come along then, let’s get him home to meet her. The light will be gone before we know it and I don’t fancy driving through the streets without my headlights on after dark.’
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