by Amy Miller
Mary nodded in understanding, smiled a tiny smile and disappeared upstairs, light-footed as a fairy, leaving Audrey alone in the kitchen, which had been thrown into gloom. She went through what she needed to do to get the bread out, and felt a creeping sense of unease. Yes, she’d helped Charlie out on countless occasions with the main bread-baking, as well as being responsible for the counter goods and the shop service. Yes, she knew the process like the back of her hand, but getting it right was a physical challenge and a huge responsibility. Not everyone could bake good bread, it was a highly regarded skill.
She yawned and stretched her arms up towards the ceiling, feeling the knots in her back spasm. Catching sight of her reflection in a small mirror, from which hooks held various sets of keys, she channelled all the young women who were rising up and stepping into the jobs of men who had gone off to war, and pushed aside her fears, headed into the bakehouse, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.
Chapter Ten
Lily waited in the lobby of the Jetty Hotel in the centre of Bournemouth, as Henry had requested in his short note. Holding a wriggling baby Joy in her arms, she sat on a red velvet settee, nervously watching military personnel and well-heeled civilians mill around on apparently important business, their shoes tapping out busy rhythms on the chequered ceramic floor tiles. Playing in the background was a jazz pianist, and the smell of Virginia Leaf tobacco smoke permeated the air.
Thrilled by the bustle of the hotel and the sparkling cut-crystal glass chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, Joy was, for the time being, quiet, if not still. Nervously jigging her leg, Lily craned her neck to see if Henry was in sight, her heart thumping in her chest. She caught a glimpse of the hotel’s dining room, where waiters were attending white-clothed tables set with silver cutlery for dinner and ladies sipping Martinis seemed to have bypassed the austerity measures of war. By the look of the food being served – veal cutlets and cheese soufflé – the wealthy were getting their fill of luxuries, regardless of rationing. But there was no point being affronted, thought Lily, catching Joy’s dribble in a cotton hanky and stuffing it in the pocket of her dress; money was the main reason she had swallowed her fears and come to the hotel: money and justice.
‘I’m pleased to see you came,’ said Henry, suddenly appearing by her side, as if in a puff of smoke.
Shooting up from her seat to stand, slightly bouncing a now-grizzling Joy in her arms, Lily found a smile from her reserves and pasted it on her face. Registering Henry’s appearance, she was taken aback. Still just as smartly turned out as he was when she first met him in her job at the Ministry of Information, in a dark, well-cut suit, his face now seemed drawn – as if marriage had aged him – the skin under his sunken eyes a bruised colour and his face pale. Henry’s eyes, so much darker and more inscrutable than Lily remembered them, brightened when he looked towards Joy, who let out a perfectly timed giggle.
‘And this must be…’ he began, letting her grab his forefinger with her hand.
Unspoken words hung in the air between them, like dirty washing pegged on a line. And this must be… our illegitimate baby. Lily remembered Henry’s verbal attack before Joy had been born and that he’d said he wanted nothing more to do with Lily. Clearly something had changed, and if she could use it to her advantage, she would. She nodded and smiled.
‘Joy,’ she said. ‘This is Joy. She was born just before Christmas…’
Lily studied Henry’s face, watching for his reaction, but he was impossible to read. Joy started to cry and Henry frowned, his face written over with concern.
‘May I hold her?’ he said.
Lily, thoroughly confused by Henry’s behaviour, thought there was no harm in it. If he liked the child, perhaps he would be willing to financially support her. She carefully handed Joy to Henry and, as if by magic, she immediately stopped crying and giggled.
Henry glanced at Lily and smiled, surprise and delight registering in his eyes. Lily returned the smile, for once feeling validated as a mother and not the usual failure. The thing about babies was, no matter what unhappiness and difficulties were going on, nobody could resist being calm and peaceful and happy in their presence.
Standing there in the lobby, both staring at Joy, Lily was struck by how peculiar it was that the three of them were bound together biologically as a family, yet were not a family in any other sense whatsoever. The people at the bakery were more of a family to Joy, even the customers who loved to make a fuss of her and asked to hold her – despite sharing no genes.
‘Shall we go through?’ Henry asked, handing Joy back to Lily. ‘I thought we could have a drink, though I should imagine Joy will need to go to bed?’
Walking together through to a dimly lit room, just off the side of the main bar, Henry showed Lily to a table.
‘She doesn’t sleep very much,’ said Lily, shaking her head. ‘Neither of us get much sleep.’
‘It must be hard work,’ said Henry, sitting opposite Lily. ‘Doing all of this alone, without a father on the scene.’
‘Yes, it is,’ said Lily, frowning. ‘Sometimes I can barely see straight for being tired.’
‘Is there a problem with her?’ said Henry. ‘That’s stopping her from sleeping?’
‘No,’ said Lily. ‘Only that she’s got into the habit of it, I think. And I’m too tired to break that habit. It’s easier for everyone if I just go with what she wants…’
‘Easy isn’t always the best option,’ said Henry, a little tersely.
When Lily lowered her eyes, feeling admonished, Henry tapped the table in front of her to get her attention. She looked up, her eyes flashing.
‘But what do I know?’ he said, with a quick smile. ‘I’m sure you have no respect for my opinion.’
They were interrupted briefly by the waiter, and without even asking Lily, Henry ordered two Martini cocktails. When she’d first met him, Lily had liked his air of authority, but tonight she felt irritated. She decided, when it arrived, that she wouldn’t drink the cocktail, in a show of resistance.
‘I’d like to know why I’m – we’re – here,’ said Lily, faltering. ‘When we first met, I looked up to you, Henry. You told me you had feelings for me and I believed you. When you told me about your wife-to-be, I felt stupid and ashamed. You didn’t want anything to do with me, or the baby, but now you summon me to a fancy hotel for drinks. It doesn’t make any sense. Is your wife here too, or in London?’
Henry leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. He took a few drags of it and then narrowed his eyes at her through the smoke, as if scrutinising her. She flapped her hand in front of her face to get the smoke away from Joy’s face. Henry removed his hand holding the cigarette from the table.
‘The truth is I did like you, Lily,’ said Henry, leaning forward now and gently putting his left hand over hers. ‘Very much. But I was in no position to have an affair with you—’
‘I didn’t want to have an affair,’ interrupted Lily, removing her hand from under his. ‘I didn’t even know you were engaged. I thought we were both unattached…’
She blushed as the waiter arrived at the table’s edge, the drinks on a shiny silver tray. He placed them down and Lily stopped talking completely. She felt silly mentioning their fling now that so much time had passed and that he was married. Deciding in fact that she needed a sip of something strong, she lifted her glass to her lips, her eyes watering as the alcohol slipped down her throat. Henry smiled at her in amusement, so she drank the rest of the drink down in one. He raised his eyebrows and leaned towards her.
‘I know what you thought,’ said Henry eventually. ‘That was wrong of me to lead you to believe something untrue. But please, can we move on? There’s something I want to discuss with you, something important. In my note I said I thought I could be of assistance, but first, I need to ask you a few questions.’
Fiddling with the elegant long stem of her empty glass with one hand, holding Joy balanced on her knee with the other, Lily felt vaguely dizz
y from the Martini.
‘What questions?’ she asked. ‘I can’t imagine what you need to ask me, but go ahead.’
She was baffled by Henry’s behaviour and had no idea what he was leading up to. In her heart of hearts, she hoped that he had seen the error of his ways and had decided to ‘assist’ her financially, because money was a big problem. It was the decent thing to do, wasn’t it? If you’d stripped a girl of her ability to earn a living and knew how that would impact on your own flesh and blood, would any right-thinking man, as wealthy as Henry Bateman clearly was, begrudge parting with a few pounds?
‘Are you positive that this baby is mine?’ he asked.
Lily bristled and half laughed. His directness shocked her, but she took a deep breath and remained calm.
‘I am one hundred per cent sure this baby is yours,’ she said quietly but firmly. ‘You are the only person I have ever—’
Embarrassed, her words trailed off and Henry nodded once, apparently in acceptance.
‘You’re living at the bakery with Audrey Barton?’ said Henry. ‘But her husband has joined the army?’
‘That’s right,’ said Lily, frowning. ‘What is this? I feel like I’m being interrogated.’
‘I’m just trying to work out how difficult this is for you,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to work out the best way I can assist you.’
‘It’s very difficult,’ she admitted, a thought of the day she’d foolishly left Joy on the beach flashing into her mind. ‘I don’t have a penny to my name. As you know, my father has rejected me because I’m unmarried, and I’m completely reliant on the generosity of Audrey, who has allowed me to stay on at the bakery. She has always wanted her own child, but unfortunately hasn’t been able to have one, so I know she loves having Joy around. I work occasionally for her, but it’s not always easy, with having a baby to think about.’
‘What will you do as Joy grows?’ said Henry. ‘Where will you live?’
‘I haven’t thought that far ahead,’ she said. ‘At some point I will get a job. I’m sure Audrey will give me shifts at the bakery, but…’
‘You can do better than that,’ snapped Henry. ‘You’ll earn a pittance as a bakery hand. When you were at the Ministry, you showed real potential. If you’re going to give Joy the best education, clothing, health and opportunities to travel and see the world, you’ll need more than a bakery wage.’
Lily blanched at the irony of what he was saying. Yes, she had showed potential in a job she loved at the Ministry of Information, but Henry had taken all that away from her by getting her pregnant and then sacking her. Maybe that was why he was here; because he knew that and wanted to make up for it. Her legs jogged up and down under the table, wishing he’d hurry up and get to the point. This whole experience was like being interviewed for a job she didn’t want.
‘Travel!’ she asked. ‘Joy is just a few months old. There’s a war on and the future’s uncertain. I’m a lone mother. I’m not really thinking about travel, Henry.’
A possibility sprung into her head: was he going to offer to pay for these things?
‘But obviously I want the best for her,’ she added hurriedly.
Henry nodded sagely. He took one more drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the crystal cut-glass ashtray, then swallowed down the remainder of his drink in one gulp. He looked Lily directly in the eye, making her suck in her breath.
‘My wife, Helen, was severely injured in a bomb blast in the Blitz,’ said Henry, pausing to light a new cigarette. ‘Great swathes of London have been completely destroyed, and unfortunately Helen was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A brick wall came down on her. She had to undergo lengthy and complicated surgery and lost the child, our child, that she was carrying. She is paralysed from the waist down and, as a result, the doctors say she won’t ever be able to have another child. She is, how can I put it, inconsolable.’
Henry was choked, his eyes wet. He smiled sadly up at her through his floppy hair, pushing it back from his forehead. For a split second, Lily saw the Henry she had first been attracted to, and her heart went out to him. Her thoughts turned to Helen, his beautiful wife, now bound to a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
‘I’m… sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘That’s awful, just terrible. I’m so sorry for you both. I don’t know what to say.’
‘There’s no need,’ said Henry, holding his palm up, to stop her speaking. ‘But I might as well get to the point and explain to you why I’m here. Helen is desperate to be a mother and, what with you being so young, and struggling with money and with being alone and not even having the support of your father, I think it might be a good idea if she and I were to take on and adopt Joy. We have a huge house in London and another in the Sussex countryside. Helen’s family are very wealthy and would see to it that Joy would have the best schooling and prospects for the rest of her life. They would help to look after the child too, pay for a nanny, that kind of thing.’
Lily’s mouth fell open. Joy let out a delighted gurgle.
‘I would never have asked this question if I didn’t know the truth – that you didn’t ever want this child or to be a mother at such a young age,’ he continued. ‘She was an accident of ours. Mine. This was my mess, and so I feel I should clean it up. You were an innocent victim who made a mistake and I’m sure you’d agree that this would be a satisfactory solution for everyone concerned. Most importantly, Joy.’
‘Did you tell Helen about me?’ Lily said, incredulous.
Henry shook his head and sighed.
‘Helen found out about our indiscretion, thanks to your stepmother,’ he explained. ‘She decided Helen should know.’
‘Daphne?’ said Lily, confused. ‘She told Helen what happened? Why?’
‘Yes,’ said Henry. ‘It was Daphne who came up with this idea and suggested it to Helen. I think your father, Victor, is finding things difficult without you, and Daphne thought this way you could return home and resume your previous life. My wife has been quite understanding about what happened between us, but on the proviso that we parent the child. It all makes perfect sense really. Of course, you will be financially rewarded too. I must make that clear.’
Lily was aghast. She struggled to digest what Henry was asking of her. Was he trying to buy Joy? Clutching the child close to her chest, she shook her head in dismay.
‘How could you possibly think I would ever give her—’ she started, her voice trembling and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. ‘I’m sorry for Helen, the accident, I am sorry, but…’
Lily broke down in tears. Henry sighed deeply, closing his eyes briefly, before speaking to her very calmly.
‘Spare me the histrionics,’ he said. ‘This is a grown-up arrangement that would suit everyone concerned. Joy would have every opportunity afforded to her, two parents and a big loving family. After the war, she would travel, go to the best schools, everything. How can you deny her that?’
Lily stood up and pushed back her chair so hard that it fell over, crashing onto the tiled floor. There was a sudden hush in the room as everyone turned to see what the commotion was, before Henry raised an apologetic hand and they resumed their conversations. Lily gripped hold of Joy, who was crying now, and glared at Henry, who was standing, holding out one of Joy’s booties that had fallen off. Lily snatched it from him.
‘Do we have an agreement?’ said Henry. ‘Lily…?’
She shook her head in defiance and shock. ‘No, we do not have an agreement,’ she hissed, before turning to leave. ‘And we never will.’
Cupping her hand protectively around the back of Joy’s head as she ran with her in her arms, Lily pushed past the uniformed men and ladies in their glad rags, through the hotel’s grand entrance and into the street, where night had fallen, gulping in the fresh air, like water. With a trembling hand and pounding heart, she felt for her little torch in her pocket, pointed it downwards, as was required in blackout, and followed its shaky light towards the bus stop to get as
far away from Henry as possible.
Chapter Eleven
Elsie suppressed a yawn in the sleeve of her bus conductress uniform. Her evening shift on the buses was almost over and she’d worked through rush hour at terrific speed, dashing about punching tickets and finding change, forcing herself to be cheerful as she wound the handle of her ticket machine hundreds of times over. There was no time to stop to have a yarn with the passengers and, instead, William’s words played over on a loop in her head: The engagement’s off. You’re free of me. Isn’t that what you wanted?
Now that darkness had fallen and because of the dreaded blackout, the bus crawled along the road at a snail’s pace and she longed to deposit the takings at the bus depot, remove the distinctive bottle-green uniform she wore and climb into bed. With dull eyes, she stared through the darkness at the advertising posters on a billboard, as the driver approached a bus stop. ‘Did you Maclean your teeth today?’, one questioned, while another bore an image of a tin hat bearing the slogan: ‘Keep it under your hat – careless talk costs lives’, and another still: ‘Housewives! Save waste fats for explosives!’
Elsie sighed, wondering if the war would ever end, and as the driver came to a halt to let people off, the unmistakable haunting wail of the air-raid siren sounded. The siren had sounded frequently in the last few months, but each time felt like the first, and fear and adrenalin shot through Elsie’s body. As a bus conductress, it was her responsibility to lead the passengers to safety and direct them to the closest public shelter, which, in this instance, was signposted by a dimly lit arrow.
Standing tall and straight, she cupped her hands around her mouth in order to project her voice.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she called out to the passengers, ‘if you would like to follow me, I will lead you to the safety of the nearest public shelter.’