A Wartime Secret

by Annie Murray

  I’m no good to Ted, she thought, as her tears flowed, silver drops on the rug. He doesn’t want me. Not really. He’s not the man I married any more. I don’t even know who he is. She laid her head sideways on her knees, trying to force the train of her thoughts to stop, but they would not obey.

  Don’t I owe it to Johnny, and to Barbara, to see him and tell him? Johnny had not just gone off and left her, as she had feared when he did not turn up that night. He had been posted far away and had no way of getting in touch with her anyway. The war had separated them, as it had separated herself and Ted. But she and Johnny had a child together. This thought obsessed her. Ted did not seem to want her – he was a million miles away. Maybe Ted would prefer her just to let him go. Was it really Johnny she should be with?

  15

  She could think of almost nothing else. Moving around her silent stranger of a husband, she burned with longing for her little girl, for all that was familiar. Even though she had not seen Johnny for almost a year, she felt closer to him than she did to Ted. And all the time she knew her chances were running out. She had to tell Ted about Barbara, or Joan and Norm would be coming round with her – that’s if one of the neighbours didn’t get there first.

  It was less difficult to get out of the house to see Barbara on these mornings now. Ted never asked her where she was going. He was so wrapped up in himself that he didn’t seem to care. He had only been back to see his own mother and father once more and apart from that the only person he bothered with was Larry. He had been to see Larry’s birds a few times, as Larry only lived a couple of streets away.

  ‘By the weekend, Grace,’ Joan said again that Wednesday morning. ‘I’ve had enough.’

  Grace let her hair fall forward to hide her face as she looked down at Barbara, who was suckling while waving one arm in the air. She seemed a bit snuffly and Grace was immediately worried. Was she getting a cold – perhaps becoming really sick?

  ‘All right,’ she agreed. What else could she say? Studying Barbara, all she could see was Johnny, his eyes, his colouring. Johnny, the father of her child.

  By the weekend, she would have done the deed. Then none of it would matter anyway. A helpless feeling of fate had come over her ever since she had first thought of going to find Johnny. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t, she thought.

  ‘There, you little monkey,’ she said to Barbara, lifting her to change sides. She was trying to sound normal, as if everything in her life did not make her feel she was on the surge of a great river, carrying her over a waterfall in which she had no idea if she would drown.

  At first, the idea of going to find Johnny had been just a fancy, a dream. But now it possessed her thoughts completely. She had argued herself into thinking it was the proper thing to do. Johnny had a right, she told herself. And Ted – Ted acts as if I’m like the ball and chain they joke about when you get married. Only now, it feels real.

  All day she fretted. Her body was electric with nerves, her pulse constantly running too fast, as if she was poised to run away. By that afternoon, after she had cooked Ted some dinner, once again he was asleep in the chair. She stood looking at him, full of desperation. She had loved him once, with all her heart. She was trying so hard to love him now, but nothing she did ever seemed to be right. He rejected all her attempts to be close. He did not love her, beyond wanting her body – sometimes. And, she realized now, it was not she who could not have children. It was as if he had withheld this from her too. Everything was a fog of confusion and sadness.

  All she could think of now was Johnny. She could not help herself. As if it was some other woman who, while Ted was out at the back later with Larry, slipped silently out of the front door. A woman in her old summer frock with pink roses on it, her hair pinned back prettily, lying black and glossy on her shoulders. Whose feet, in her little black shoes, took her along Monument Road towards where she had caught sight of Johnny before, as if in repeating the walk she might see him in exactly the same spot.

  But of course he was not there.

  For a few seconds she was at a loss. But those feet took her onwards, towards the fire station. She stopped just short of it, suddenly feeling foolish. What the hell am I doing here? she thought. Goose pimples rose on her skin. I’m married – to Ted. What am I doing? She struggled to take a deep breath. She could not stop, could not just move away. But nor could she manage to go and knock on the door . . .

  For a few minutes she paced up and down the road. However long it took, she had to stay there. Sooner or later she would see him, she knew. She had to see him. As she turned back towards the fire station, her blood thudded harder at the sight of a man in a fireman’s uniform coming along the road from the other direction. At once she could see that it was not Johnny. The man was dark-haired, tall, walking with a loping stride.

  They coincided more or less outside the station. ‘’Scuse me—’ She tried to sound casual. ‘Is there a bloke called Johnny Duke working in there?’

  She waited for the man’s eyes to take on a suggestive look, as some men’s would have done. But he was a gangling, innocent-looking lad.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘D’yer wanna speak to him?’

  ‘If that’s all right,’ she said.

  In the moments it took for him to lope into the station and find Johnny, she could have changed her mind, could have run away. But she stood with her hands folded in front of her, past caring if anyone thought her strange. It felt as if fate had taken hold of her. She could not move.

  A fireman with blond hair and a muscular, easy stride, came out of the station. In that second Grace realized she and Johnny had never seen each other in full daylight before. But she knew him straight away, that walk, that body.

  He paused, puzzled; saw her. His pace quickened, a smile breaking out across his face.

  ‘Is that you, Gracie?’ He laughed, and suddenly he was there in front of her. He was a little smaller than she remembered, but the easy smile was just the same, his blue eyes direct as he looked down at her. ‘Fancy seeing you!’

  ‘Well, I only live down the road, don’t I?’ she said, with a pang that he didn’t seem to remember this.

  ‘Oh ah – I know.’ He pushed his hands down into his pockets and gazed at her, affectionately, she thought. ‘But I never exactly knew where you was – you never told me!’

  But, her mind thought, insecurely, if you had really tried to find out . . . She wanted to begin, to tell him. But he was so casual, so much part of another time, somehow, that she did not know how to start.

  ‘In fact,’ he went on, looking at her with what seemed to be half-joking reproach, ‘you never told us quite a few things, did yer?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Dread fixed like a cold stone in the back of her throat.

  ‘Well – it was one of your pals from the factory told me you was married.’

  Grace stared back at him. She felt blood pour into her face, a mortified burning in her cheeks. Johnny’s eyes were harder now, accusing. Under his gaze she felt cheap and terribly ashamed. She looked down, at the ground, at his heavy boots.

  ‘Who – Margaret?’ she managed to say.

  ‘I dunno,’ he said easily. ‘Can’t remember ’er name.’

  She dared to look back at him again.

  ‘You should’ve told me, Grace.’ He looked sad now, which was much worse. ‘I was sweet on you – I thought . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She managed to say it through the lump in her throat, trying to force back her tears.

  ‘Well, they sent us away after that,’ Johnny shrugged. ‘Down to Southampton, so I thought, well, that’s for the best. Anyhow . . .’ He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looked down, then back at her, seeming bashful. ‘Turned out all right. I’m getting wed – next month. Moving away. Susan’s coming back up to Leek with me – we want a quieter life than here.’

  ‘Oh.’ Grace summoned all her pride and forced her face into a smile. ‘That’s really nice new
s, Johnny. Good for you. I hope you’ll both be very happy.’ She gathered herself. ‘Anyroad, I’d best be moving on.’

  He frowned. ‘How d’you know I was here, anyway?’

  ‘Saw you, the other day.’ She kept up the smile, talking for all the world as if none of it mattered, as if it was nothing. ‘I just thought I’d come and say hello.’

  Johnny looked at her seriously for a second, as if about to say something. Her heart quickened. In the end he said,

  ‘You’re looking fine.’ He was backing away now. ‘Nice to see yer, Grace – all the best.’

  ‘Bye, Johnny,’ she said, struggling to steady her voice.

  He had already turned and was walking away. She stood watching, unable to move, actually hearing in her mind, as if it was real, a door slamming, a great heavy oak thing closing with a doom-laden boom.

  At last she moved away, cold even in the sunshine. Raising her chin, she gathered herself to walk home. There was only one thing she could do now. And then she would have to take the consequences.

  When she tiptoed back into the house, Ted and Larry were still absorbed only yards away at the end of the garden. Grace stood in her back room, trying to slow her breathing. To her astonishment she realized she had been out for barely half an hour. And in that time it felt as if she had lived years’ worth of life and everything had shifted without anyone around her noticing.

  III

  16

  I’ve got to tell him.

  Grace hardly slept that night. The nights were disturbed in any case by Ted’s restlessness. This time he did not shout or sit up, but every so often, just as she was tilting into sleep, he would begin twitching and muttering and she was forced wide awake again.

  She lay on her back, her thoughts swirling. In the darkness everything looked its worst. Everything was coming home to roost. She had done a wicked thing. The moment of hurt she had seen in Johnny’s eyes was magnified now. She had deceived two men, and was now going to hurt them both. She had behaved like a hussy, and now she deserved any punishment that came to her.

  Looking back from a distance now on those winter days when she could think of nothing but Johnny Duke, she was amazed and disgusted. All that overwhelming longing she had felt for him – to be held and made love to. What kind of woman was she?

  She turned over onto her side, away from Ted. What on earth was this wrecked, angry man going to do when she told him? Anything could happen. He might kill her! Or he might go completely to pieces. The blood was beating so fast in her body that she was unable to lie still any longer. She got up and went downstairs again.

  Sitting in the kitchen, she hatched a desperate plan. She would fetch Barbara from Joan’s tomorrow and take her away. Just leave and go somewhere where they would both be safe. She imagined herself with Barbara in one arm, getting onto the tram, then a train, to . . . Where?

  Where the hell d’you think you’re going to go? she whispered. We’ve no one else in the world. The thought of leaving Joan behind was desolate. Ever since they were children, she had relied on Joan. Her sister was like a pillar, holding up her life.

  And what would she live on if Ted was to throw her out? She could get a job, but then who would have Barbara?

  And so, all night, her thoughts ran back and forth. She met the dawn exhausted and overwrought.

  I’ll tell him this morning, she thought, as the light seeped into the room. She got stiffly to her feet to boil water. I’ll go up now and tell him.

  Ted was still asleep when she went up with two mugs of weak tea. She stood looking down at him, at his cropped hair, his thin face, the brows pulled into a frown even in his sleep. So pure and good, my Ted, she thought. Never done a thing wrong in his life. He could never understand.

  Gently, she put his tea down and climbed in again on her side of the bed. And when he woke, and sat up to drink his tea, giving her, to her surprise, a brief, sleepy smile, still she could not say a word. Both of them seemed to be locked in, with no way out.

  Thursday passed, much like the other days. Grace was finding it hard to eat anything, she was so churned up. Every time there was a moment when she thought she might sit down by her husband and try to begin, she would turn and look at him and imagine herself saying, ‘Ted – there’s something I need to tell you . . .’ But it was impossible.

  Tonight, she told herself. We’ll go to bed and I’ll hold him in my arms. Tell him like that. I can’t do it sitting here in the kitchen.

  By five o’clock she stood barefoot in the kitchen, going through the motions of cooking tea: a pan of butter beans, a few shreds of meat. Ted was outside: not with Larry this time, just pottering about down the end.

  Well, Grace thought, peering at the pale concoction in the pan, I just hope this lot tastes better than it looks. Not that she really cared. She wasn’t hungry anyway.

  As she put the lid back on the saucepan, she heard a knock at the front door and her heart began to slam like a piston. Joan! And Norm! Joan had said she wouldn’t come, not today, maybe not until Sunday, but maybe for some reason she had changed her mind and this was the moment Ted was going to be confronted with Barbara.

  ‘Oh God, oh God, no, please . . .’ she was muttering, creeping into the front room to peer out. She hardly dared look, fearing to see her sister’s figure looming on the doorstep with Barbara in her arms.

  Instead, on the pavement was a very thin, pale young man with short brown hair and a neat-looking brown jacket. Who, Grace thought, must have the wrong house. She rushed to the back to slip her shoes on.

  ‘Yes?’ She hoped she didn’t seem too strange to him as she opened the door. Her heart rate was only just beginning to slow towards normal.

  ‘Oh, er, hello.’ He seemed shy and nicely spoken. And startled by the sight of her. ‘I’m looking for a man called Ted Chapman. Is this the right house?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said warily. Had they come to take him back to the army, was her first thought. But wasn’t it redcaps, who came? ‘Who is it wants him?’

  ‘Nothing to worry about, Mrs, er . . . Chapman?’ he guessed, with a faint smile. She saw he had a sweet, kindly face, but that he was painfully thin. ‘I’m Kenneth Allen – I was with your husband in the . . . in Poland. I’m passing through Birmingham and I thought I’d just see how he’s getting on.’

  Grace led him through to the back, relieved. The young man seemed very nice. And it might do Ted good to see someone.

  ‘He’s out there.’ She pointed through the back window. ‘He’s trying to fix up the pigeon coop.’

  Kenneth leaned towards the window, narrowing his eyes. Ted was standing with his back to them, hands on his hips, a thin pole of a man, apparently staring at his handiwork.

  ‘How is he getting on, Mrs Chapman?’ Kenneth asked her, stepping back again. She could hear great concern in his voice and she turned to look at him, unsure what to say to this polite stranger, who nevertheless perhaps knew her husband much better than she did these days.

  As she hesitated, Kenneth Allen seemed to see something in her eyes. His expression was very serious.

  ‘I don’t know if you know just how lucky Ted is to be alive,’ he said.

  ‘No.’ Grace’s voice was husky. ‘Not – really. I can see he’s not been well.’

  As Kenneth began to speak, Ted turned and started to walk towards the house. Kenneth gently took Grace’s arm and guided her back from the window.

  ‘He wasn’t in a good way when we left the camp – Stalag XXB. Some of us had to carry him at the end. Between us. We never thought he would make it this far.’

  He saw her shocked expression.

  ‘Has he not told you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she whispered. She felt hopeless, as if she was the one who had failed him. ‘I mean – nothing about the camp, about what happened – how you got back.’

  ‘We walked, like I said.’ He spoke quickly and very quietly. ‘From January. Through Germany. It was more than two months before we ran into the Y
anks. Quite a few didn’t make it . . .’ With a shadow of a smile, he said. ‘Ted must have survived to see his lovely wife again.’

  They could hear his footsteps on the bricks outside the back door. Kenneth gave her a meaningful look and stepped away from her.

  Ted stopped in the doorway and they turned to him. He stood quite still, a haunted expression on his face.

  ‘Hello, Ted, old pal,’ Kenneth said, going towards him.

  Grace twisted inside as she saw her husband’s face contort. He held out his arms to Kenneth Allen and fell upon him, sobbing like a child.

  17

  Grace shyly asked Kenneth if he would like to stay and have tea with them, though wishing to goodness she had something better to offer than her butter bean mess.

  ‘No thanks, Mrs Chapman,’ he said, to her relief. ‘It’s good of you but I’m on the way to Shrewsbury to see my grandfather. He’s expecting me later tonight. I mustn’t stop for long.’

  She had told Ted to take Kenneth into the front room while she at least made him a cup of tea. She was very grateful to Kenneth for coming, for Ted having some company.

  When she carried the tea in, the two men were talking quietly. Ted seemed to have recovered himself but he still looked haunted and emotional. Grace was filled with a wash of tenderness for him. It was the affectionate tone in which Kenneth Allen had talked about Ted, the concerned way he had looked at her. My husband, she thought, watching the two of them. After the turmoil and pain of yesterday, suddenly she felt able to turn all her feelings towards him, as if Kenneth’s arrival had shifted something in her. She was the one in the wrong. Johnny was nothing in her life. That was gone. She must look after her poor Ted with all her heart.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Chapman.’ Kenneth turned to her, smiling. ‘I’m sorry for turning up with no warning. I’ve come from Warwick and it was a bit of a last-minute decision.’