‘Goodbye,’ I mumbled.
‘Goodbye.’
The results came quickly and confirmed what I had known from the start. It was, as the doctor put it, terminal. But when I thought of where I was going, I felt oddly calm. All I had to do was wait.
Sixteen
I had made up my mind. I was going back to London, as soon as I could. The next day was Sunday and I wasn’t about to let myself be trapped in the church with Reverend Rivers again. The thought of seeing him pray for our souls from the pulpit made my flesh crawl. There was nothing that I could believe in any more; he had made sure of that. The place I had loved had all been built on lies. The family I had chosen over Ma had its nasty little secrets, secrets that would never stop eating away at it. I had been stupid. I had stayed where I thought I was wanted. I hadn’t stopped to think why I was so welcome. I should have gone back to Ma when I had the chance. It was too late for that. She had lost me and now I had lost her, but I would go back to where we came from, back to where I belonged.
After scrubbing myself in the bathroom I got into bed to plan my escape. I wanted to be under the blankets, to shut everything out. But before long there was a knock at the door. It was Mrs Rivers, as kind and concerned as she had been on my first day at the rectory.
‘I came to see if you were all right,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve had an awful shock. Losing someone you love is a terrible thing.’
I knew that she didn’t mean just Ma. I flushed, both at the memory of the things that Reverend Rivers had told me and in shame, because I knew that I was about to throw her kindness back at her by running away. When she bent to kiss my forehead, as if I were a little girl again, I wanted her to put her arms around me and hold me so that I could wish her a silent goodbye, but instead she straightened up again and smiled a small, tight smile.
‘Grief is exhausting,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you to rest. Call me if you need anything.’
I watched her go, closing the door gently behind her. Reverend Rivers would know why I had left. My departure would be a relief to him. But Mrs Rivers wouldn’t understand and he wouldn’t tell her. She would have lost her second Elizabeth. I would hurt her and I would hurt Grace, who would be left alone again without a sister. I curled myself up as small as I could, waiting for the sound of the piano. When the first notes drifted up through the floor, I pushed back the blankets and got out of bed.
Five years ago I had arrived at the rectory with just a few things in a pillowcase. Now I took the same one from the chest of drawers and quickly filled it with clothes, a hairbrush and the copy of Rebecca. There wasn’t much more to take and I was glad. But then I saw the Shakespeare, the book that had done more than any other to make me feel better. I picked it up, hugging it to my chest. It wasn’t a practical thing to take, I knew. It would be awkward to carry. But I would have no friends in London. I was going to be lonely. There were enough characters in there to keep me company forever. I wrapped a cardigan around the heavy book and put it in the pillowcase.
I planned to creep down the old servants’ stairs and out through the back door. From there I knew the paths and fields well enough to get to the bus stop at the far end of the village without being seen. But on my way out of the room I couldn’t help myself. I fell onto Grace’s bed, burying my nose in her pillow. I knew that when I got up again I would be leaving her forever and so I lay there much longer than I meant to. I was still lying there when she walked into the room.
‘Nora,’ she said. ‘Are you all right? Mummy said that you were terribly upset. She sent me to ask if you’d like something to eat.’
Then she caught sight of the pillowcase. ‘What are you doing?’
She picked it up and looked inside. ‘Are you running away?’ she said, sounding hurt.
The game was up but I said nothing.
‘You were going to go on your own, weren’t you? You were going to leave me here. How could you?’
‘I want to go home,’ I whispered. ‘I have to go on my own. You wouldn’t like it.’
‘Let me come with you.’ She was excited. ‘Please say yes. I’ve never been to London. It’ll be an adventure.’
It was all going wrong. She wasn’t supposed to come with me. ‘You can’t!’ I blurted out.
‘Why not? If you can run away, so can I. There’s no point in me staying here without you.’
‘It’s different,’ I said. ‘My mother’s dead. There’s no-one to care where I go. I’m just an evacuee. But your mother and father would mind if you weren’t here.’
‘They wouldn’t care. They’d be more upset about you. They’re much more fond of you than they are of me. It’s true - you can’t pretend it isn’t.’
‘It’s not,’ I said uncomfortably, remembering what Reverend Rivers had said in the church. ‘You’re their daughter. Don’t be silly.’
‘Don’t you remember what Father said that day when we were reading Shakespeare?’ she said in a flat voice. ‘He called me a disappointment. He meant it. I know he did. He’s always been like that, ever since I was small. That’s why they sent me away to boarding school as soon as they could. They couldn’t wait to be rid of me. Why shouldn’t I go now? At least you’re my friend. You like me, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I stammered.
‘If you don’t let me come with you,’ said Grace, ‘I’ll go downstairs and tell them. You won’t even get as far as the village green.’
We stared at each other. Of course I wanted her to come with me, just as much as I knew I should leave her behind.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t bear to go back to how it was before you came. I was so lonely. Please let me come with you.’
‘London’s hard,’ I said. ‘There are people everywhere. It’s dirty and it’s noisy and there are bombs. It’s not like here, you know. It’s dangerous.’
She grinned like she had on that first day in the cattle-pens. ‘I chose you, didn’t I? I’m not going to let you go that easily.’
She threw some things into another pillowcase and then we slipped out of the rectory, through the churchyard and across the fields to the bus stop, where we waited nervously for the bus to arrive. When it came, we sat at the back, trying to keep out of sight.
Just as we were getting to Sevenoaks, Grace took out a pair of nail scissors.
‘What are those for?’ I said.
‘Watch.’
I watched as she took her ragdoll from the pillowcase, laid it on her knee and unpicked the seam that ran up its back. Inside the doll were pound notes, folded up into little squares. I had been so anxious to escape from the rectory that I hadn’t thought about how I’d pay for anything in London. I’d brought just enough money for the bus ride.
‘See,’ said Grace. ‘You’ll be glad that I came. These are my savings. I kept them in case I ever needed to run away from school.’
I was glad that she was with me, and not just because of the money. I couldn’t have left her behind. But I was frightened of the journey and of what we would find when we got to London. As we arrived at the station I could see an advertisement for beer, painted on the side of the railway pub. Take Courage it said, in tall white letters. It was all very well to say so, I thought. It was odd enough to be surrounded by strangers. I hadn’t left the village since the war began.
It was a long time since we had eaten. I was used to being hungry, to the vague feeling of never being satisfied, even at the end of a meal. But now I felt a sharp ache in my stomach. I kept swallowing, trying to put something inside me, even if it were only air. I realized that from now on we would have to find our own food. We would have to find everything for ourselves. The more I thought about it, the gloomier I felt. Grace was the opposite, excited by the novelty of it all. Going to the buffet was her idea.
‘Come on!’ she said. ‘We’ll feel better once we’ve had something to eat.’ She said it in the same way that she had suggested swimming in the lake or drinking the communion wine, expecting no resista
nce, and as usual, I gave none. I followed as she strode along the platform, as confident as if she travelled to London every day.
The buffet was full of servicemen in uniforms and land girls dressed in trousers, smoking and playing cards. I trailed after Grace, feeling awkward in my patterned frock. The waitress ruled the room from her position behind the counter. She snorted when we asked for something to eat and tossed her head in the direction of the shelves behind her. They were all empty.
‘There’s nothing left,’ she said. ‘Never is, these days.’
My stomach rumbled with disappointment.
‘Might we at least have some tea?’ Grace said, her clear voice slicing through the smoky air.
The waitress looked at her with evident dislike. ‘Have you brought a cup?’
‘A cup?’
‘For the tea.’ She spoke slowly, as if Grace were being very foolish. ‘We haven’t cups in here since 1942. The railway doesn’t give them out any more. Didn’t you know? Where have you been hiding?’
I took hold of Grace’s arm and led her away. As we went I heard the waitress talking to one of the land girls.
‘Unbelievable! Don’t they know there’s a war on?’
The land girl said something that I couldn’t make out and they laughed. I hurried through the crowded room to the door. A notice was stuck to it.
The Time Has Come for Every Person to Search his Conscience Before Making a Railway Journey, it said, in bold lettering. It is More Than Ever Vital to Ask Yourself. ‘Is My Journey Really Necessary?’
I thought of all the things that had happened. Our journey was necessary, all right. I would rather starve on the streets than go back to the rectory and its lies. I pushed the door with rather more force than was required, leaving it swinging behind us.
Huddled on a bench at the very end of the platform, I felt like one of the rabbits that William hunted in the fields, quivering as they waited to make a dash for it. I wanted to be on the train, in a compartment with the door shut, taking me out of sight and out of Kent, out of the reach of Reverend Rivers. When at last the train drew into the station I ran to it and dashed up the steps as quickly as I could.
It was very full. It seemed we weren’t the only ones ready to take our chances in London. People were packed two to a seat, spilling out into the corridors. We went along the train, picking our way between servicemen’s legs and their kitbags, looking into compartments to see if any seats were free. I remembered the lurching, pitching sensation from the last time that I had made the journey. I had changed since then. I was different, no longer a little girl. Reverend Rivers had shown me so that morning and now the servicemen confirmed it, calling out as we passed.
‘Breathe in and let these pretty ladies through!’
‘You can sit on my knee if you can’t find a space, darling!’
‘I’ve got two knees. You can have one each!’
Grace giggled. I kept my head down and my hand on her arm, pulling her after me and trying to ignore them. Eventually we came to a compartment that was less crowded than the others. There was space for one of us to sit down.
‘Go on, Grace,’ I said. ‘You have it.’
A soldier stood up. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Take my seat. I was about to stretch my legs in any case.’
‘Thank you,’ said Grace. ‘That’s awfully kind.’
We squeezed past him. I was so concerned with trying not to tread on the other people in the compartment that I almost missed the look that he gave Grace, an admiring look that went from her head to her toes and back again in one swift moment, taking in all of her.
‘Don’t talk to anyone,’ I hissed. ‘Don’t attract attention. Pretend to be asleep. We’ve run away, remember?’
Grace giggled again. ‘Don’t be so stuffy! I’ve only ever taken the train to school and that was just full of girls. This is much more exciting.’
She sat, looking around the compartment and smiling, wedged between me and a stern-looking woman with a Highland terrier on her knee. Everyone else was asleep, apart from two servicemen by the window who were sharing a cigarette and talking quietly. I looked past them, through the window, watching the fields rush by. Leaving Kent had happened without warning, just like leaving London. I never seemed to say a proper goodbye. I stared at the fields, the woods and the hundred shades of green, remembering how I had marvelled the first time I had seen them.
As the train stopped and started through deserted stations, stripped of their signs, I began to wonder whether anything would be left of London when we arrived. A dreary gloom settled over me and I huddled into my seat. A guard came through the train to punch our tickets, a thin, pale man who looked as if years of squeezing through crowded corridors had crushed the life out of him.
‘Pull the blinds,’ he shouted as he went. One of the servicemen drew them down and the compartment seemed to become even more cramped than before. I remembered the smell of the potted meat sandwiches from the last time and my stomach turned. I thought of how I had escaped into the lavatory, only to find something much worse.
As if she had read my mind, Grace turned to me. ‘I need to use the W.C.,’ she said, and stood up.
As soon as she was gone I began to count the minutes, fearful of the servicemen with their winks and smiles and afraid that she would never come back to me. The longer she was gone, the smaller the compartment seemed to become. It was as if I could feel the breath of the other passengers, damp against my skin. I smelled sweat that was much older than the journey. I listened to conversations from the corridor, trying to make out Grace’s voice, but the woman with the dog kept trying to talk to me.
‘Going to London, are you?’ she said. It sounded like an accusation.
I nodded.
‘There can’t be many girls like you and your friend on this train.’
I shifted about in my seat, feeling uncomfortable. I was sure the servicemen were listening.
‘Haven’t you heard?’ the woman went on. ‘People are trying to get out, away from those - what do you call them - those doodlebugs. They’re saying that there’s going to be lots more of them. You want to be going in the other direction, not this one.’
I had started to feel very hot. I imagined a serviceman, smiling at Grace and stretching his arm across the corridor to block her way. I imagined them looking at each other and laughing, Grace tipping back her head to show her small white teeth. The woman’s breath was sour. I dug my nails into my palms, silently begging her to stop talking. I saw the serviceman bending over Grace and her lifting up her face to meet his kiss. I smelled tobacco and sweat and felt Reverend Rivers’ body against mine. I screamed.
Grace was with me in an instant.
‘Nora! What’s wrong?’ She put her arm around my shoulders.
‘Is she all right?’ the woman asked.
‘Her mother was killed,’ Grace said quietly. ‘She was hit by a V1. We only heard today.’
‘Oh Lord.’ The woman sounded ashamed. ‘I probably set her off. I was talking about the bombs. I thought she looked a bit queer.’
She got off at the next station. I kept my eyes closed, resting my head on Grace’s shoulder, still shaken. I was starting to feel as if we would be trapped forever in the swaying compartment. Every so often the train would jerk to a standstill, stopping for a few minutes, then the carriage would begin to lurch and rock again, making the heads of the sleeping servicemen fall to the other side. I resisted sleep and I was soon stiff from holding myself up against the motion of the train. The smoke from the men’s cigarettes had made my throat tight and I was horribly thirsty. As the train rocked, my thighs rubbed against each other, sore from the scouring that I had given them with the Vim.
When the whistle blew, a long shriek, the servicemen woke. They yawned and stretched, then one of them looked down at his wrist-watch.
‘Not long now,’ he said to his friend. ‘We’ll be in the Smoke before we know it.’
‘Christ,’ the other man sa
id. ‘I wonder what sort of mess we’re going to be faced with this time.’
I liked the way that he said Ker-ist, drawing out the blasphemy. I tried it out for myself, under my breath. I liked it very much.
Ker-ist, I muttered to myself. Ker-ist.
As the train came into the station there was a flurry of movement as the other passengers leaped to their feet, packing away leftover sandwiches and books. The servicemen checked their cigarette packets to see how many were left and stowed them away in their pockets. They reached up for their kitbags in the luggage rack and threw them to each other as if they weighed nothing at all. When the train stopped everyone seemed to move very quickly, rushing to get out. Grace and I stayed in our seats, keeping tight hold of our pillowcases. Now that we had arrived, I didn’t want to leave the compartment, which had suddenly become pleasantly familiar. But soon the conductor came striding through the train.
‘All change!’ he shouted. ‘Waterloo station! End of the line! All change!’
We made our way along the corridor, littered with cigarette stubs, dead matches, scraps of paper and crumbs. The train had a desolate air about it and a thick yellow fog was beginning to creep through the windows and doors. When we were almost at the end of the carriage the lights went out and everything was suddenly dark. Grace cried out and we ran to the door, scrambling down the steps as fast as we’d climbed them just a few hours before.
Everything seemed to have changed since then. We stood on the platform, shoulder to shoulder in our flowered dresses, looking at the crowds of people, more than I had ever seen in one place.
‘Ker-ist,’ I said, rolling the word off my tongue. ‘Ker-ist.’
Grace looked shocked. I shrugged. There was no-one around to tell us what to say or do. The rules had changed again, like they had the last time I had stood at this station, looking at a train. This time, I had decided, we would make them ourselves.
That night we slept at the station, huddled together on a bench. I dozed fitfully and woke up groggy and stiff. In the morning we set off to find the house that I had lived in with Ma. I was ashamed to show her where I had come from, the small street where I had lived all my life before I met her, but I didn’t have a choice. I had to see what was left of it and there was no question of splitting up. It was as if we had traded places. Grace wasn’t fearless like she was in Kent. As she hesitated, I became bold, and I led us through the streets from Waterloo to Bethnal Green, asking passers-by for directions as we went.
Days of Grace Page 16