Wartime Brides and Wedding Cakes: A romantic and heart-warming family saga

by Amy Miller

  Audrey’s heart contracted as the sisters hugged one another. Maggie was always cheerful, no matter what was happening – and she loved that about her. Walking along in silence, Audrey struggled to find the right words, passing a corner shop where the shopkeeper had chalked up a sign that read: ‘Fags and Beer, We Are All Here’ and hung out a Union Jack flag, which flapped in the wind.

  ‘Maggie, I—’ she started, but Maggie laid a hand on her arm, to interrupt.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Maggie quietly. ‘I’ve taken sugar and dried fruit from the bakery and swapped it for clothing coupons. I know I’ve done wrong.’

  ‘Clothing coupons?’ Audrey asked, frowning. ‘I thought food perhaps, for your family, but clothing coupons… now I’m confused.’

  Maggie stopped walking. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed.

  ‘You’ve seen what my life is like,’ she said, gesturing towards her home. ‘Between us we bring in just about enough money to pay the rent and put a meal on the table, but you know how much prices have gone up.’

  Audrey nodded. It was true – some non-rationed items had rocketed.

  ‘You have your rations and the price of bread has stayed the same because it’s subsidised,’ said Audrey. ‘I’d never see you go without, Maggie.’

  Maggie smiled in acknowledgement before carrying on.

  ‘We also pay for my grandmother’s bad habits,’ she said. ‘And we have to pay off her debt – she got into a bit of trouble a few years back and borrowed money off some lowlife around here. We have to help her out if we want to keep the roof over our heads. It’s that simple.’ She shrugged and pushed her hands into her dress pockets.

  ‘Yes,’ said Audrey. ‘I can see it’s not easy… your grandmother clearly has problems.’

  ‘I want a way out of this for me and my sisters,’ said Maggie. ‘And what have I got going for me? I don’t have brains, but I do have fair looks. People always comment on how well I look after myself. I’ve been spending the clothing coupons on good clothes, so that when I go out with George Meadows, he likes what he sees and thinks of me as a better class of girl. Then, when he asked me to marry him, I thought, “How on earth will I buy a dress?” It sounds daft, I know it does, but I took the sugar, thinking you wouldn’t miss it. I thought one day I’d pay you back somehow. I know it’s selfish of me, but I didn’t know what else to do.’

  Audrey’s heart went out to Maggie. She pulled her in for a hug and squeezed her tight. Then she remembered her wedding ring.

  ‘I need to ask you another question,’ she said, unable to meet Maggie’s eye. ‘Did you take my wedding ring?’

  Maggie shook her head emphatically. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘I’d never do such a thing. I swear, Audrey, I swear to you, I wouldn’t take something so precious. I should never have taken the sugar. I’m sorry.’

  She wept into her hanky and Audrey gently patted her back. She could easily see and understand why Maggie had done what she’d done – desperate people did desperate things.

  ‘If you’ll permit me, I’ll work some shifts for free,’ offered Maggie. ‘To make up for my wrongdoing.’

  ‘Listen, I’ve got some dresses I never get the chance to wear,’ Audrey told her. ‘Why don’t you have a look at them for you and your sisters? Pat could take them in for you, if they’re too big. As for a wedding dress, they’re doing the rounds at the moment – people borrowing from each other, and buying them second-hand or making them from scratch. I’ll help you find something lovely, if you promise not to go behind my back again? If you’re in trouble, just come to me.’

  Maggie sniffed, nodded and squeezed Audrey’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re so kind.’

  ‘I know a good shop girl when I see one,’ said Audrey, with a wink. ‘And everyone deserves a second chance.’

  * * *

  ‘You’ve done what?’ said John, when she visited him in hospital a few days later and told him the whole story. ‘How can you give the girl her job back when she’s stolen from you? You must have taken leave of your senses!’

  He hoisted himself up to sitting and burst into a coughing fit. Audrey passed him a cup of water, which he sipped, his eyes watering. His nurse popped her head in around the door and Audrey waved, to say he was okay.

  ‘I’ve decided to forgive her,’ she said when he’d calmed down again. ‘She knows the bakery inside out and the customers love her. She doesn’t have it easy, John, not at all. If I’m wrong, then on my own head be it. She’s got a wedding coming up and, to be frank, I think we could all do with enjoying a knees-up. I don’t want it all ruined just because she did something wrong.’

  But John shook his head. He twisted around in the bed and slammed the glass of water down on the bedside table, where Audrey could see traces of a visit from his sister Pat. There was a jigsaw puzzle, a bar of Plain York Chocolate and a slice of gooseberry pie – Bournemouth was awash with dessert gooseberries since a consignment had arrived from Devonshire.

  ‘You want your head examining,’ said John, picking up the chocolate and offering her a piece. ‘And what about the old bakehouse? Is William helping? I can’t stand being stuck in here when I should be there!’

  Audrey broke off a piece of chocolate and put it on her tongue. The sweetness was such a treat. Even though it hadn’t yet been rationed, the ingredients it was made with were scarce, so chocolate was becoming increasingly expensive and hard to come by. Some bars, such as KitKat, would not be made again until after the war.

  ‘Yes, he’s helping, thank goodness,’ Audrey said. ‘It’s hard for him, but he’s doing a grand job. I think it’s helping settle his mind too, but then again—’

  Her gaze drifted to the window, where rain beat against the glass.

  ‘Then again, I wish I knew how to get him and Elsie back together,’ she continued. ‘They should be together.’

  ‘Send the lad in ’ere to see me,’ said John, reaching for the last of the chocolate. ‘I’ll have a word with ’im and knock some sense into ’im – it’s the least I can do.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  William hobbled into the hospital on his crutches, receiving sympathetic glances from the nursing staff. He was shown in to see John, who was sitting on the bed in his pyjamas and dressing gown, with his back towards William, as he stared out of the window at the grounds, where giant foxgloves in the borders swayed in the breeze. The sky, through the glass, was bright blue and cloudless. William tapped gently on the door and walked in.

  ‘You got your summons then?’ said John, turning around to greet him.

  ‘Yes,’ said William. ‘Are you going to tell me I’m getting something wrong with the baking? The yeast has been tricky to handle in this hot weather and—’

  ‘Here’s the thing,’ interrupted John. ‘I’ve realised I’m pretty much the closest thing to a father you have. I know that after your dad died, you and Audrey fell out with your stepfather, Victor. By all accounts he sounds like a bad egg and you’re better off without him. But since you started work as a delivery boy at the bakery all them years back, I’ve watched you learn and grow. I’ve been proud of you, William. You’re a good lad. How old are you now?’

  ‘Twenty-two,’ said William. ‘Twenty-three next month.’

  John nodded sagely. ‘I’ve heard you’ve called off your engagement to Elsie,’ he said. ‘You might think it’s none of my damn business, lad, but why?’

  William shrugged and, using his crutches, walked over to the window to look out at the sky. There was a protracted silence, before he offered an explanation.

  ‘I think she’s better off with someone else,’ he said.

  ‘But she don’t want any bugger else,’ said John, exasperated. ‘That’s what I don’t get. I think there’s summat else, lad, ain’t there?’

  William thought of the images running through his head that nobody else in the bakery had seen: indiscriminate violence, the thunderous roar of heaving shelling and fire bombs, hiding fro
m the enemy like rats. The German soldier running away from him. Dear David, twisting and turning in the soil, breathing his last breath. William swallowed.

  ‘While I was away,’ he started, ‘things happened… I did something… made a poor decision. I’m not the person Elsie fell in love with. Before I went, I was naive and believed I was a stronger man than I am. War has changed me. She’s better off with another man.’

  He blinked, waiting for John to respond, but the old man’s face was expressionless.

  ‘That’s guilt talking,’ said John, his voice serious. ‘Guilt can kill strong men, but you’ve got to own it and fight it. Nothing prepares you for war. Nothing. I fought in the Great War and I know what you’ve witnessed, but now that you’re home, you have a choice. You could let this affect you for the rest of your life, or you could put it behind you and never look back. I don’t want to know what your burden is, that’s your business, but we all have a cross to bear. If you want my advice, do good for those who love you, or else turn inwards and let guilt rot you from the inside out like a bad apple. What’s it to be, William?’

  William frowned and stared out of the window at the cloudless sky: a blank canvas.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lily had not been able to get Henry’s proposition out of her head. Though she had told Audrey that he wanted to adopt Joy, she hadn’t told her the other part of the story: that it was Audrey’s mother, Daphne, who had told Helen about Lily in the first place, apparently because Victor was so unhappy about not having Lily in his life. On hearing that news, Lily had immediately written to Victor, asking him to meet her in the Lyons Corner House, a tea room in London’s Piccadilly. She had said, in her letter, that she would come alone, but actually, she had brought Joy with her. It might be the case that Victor didn’t want Lily and Joy in his own home but this was a public place. He would have to behave civilly.

  Sitting at a table by the window in the tea room, she watched the Londoners go by. Amongst the buildings devastated by the horrendous Blitz bombing, people carried on with their lives as best they could. A small typing pool of smart young women worked on desks in the courtyard of their bombed-out office building opposite the café, the office presumably too dangerous to work in.

  ‘What do they do in the rain?’ Lily asked the waitress, gesturing towards the typists.

  ‘Umbrellas,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Or sometimes they sit in cars with their typewriters on their knees. It’s a solicitor’s firm, so I suppose they can’t very well pack up and go home just because their office has been bombed.’

  Lily smiled as her eyes were drawn to another shop window where women were having their legs painted by a man with a paintbrush, near a notice declaring ‘no more ladders’. Further along the street, people browsed the plants and flowers at a flower stall while buses rumbled past, taking people to work, carrying on with life as normal.

  ‘What can I get you, love?’ said the waitress.

  ‘Tea, please,’ Lily said. ‘Tea for two.’

  ‘Coming up!’ she replied, then lowering her voice, ‘If I were you, I’d take it sweet while you can. You know Lord Woolton says there’s going to be a complete sugar ban in cafés soon? May as well drink dishwater!’

  The waitress laughed and walked away, leaving Lily to look around the tea room. It was packed full of people of all ages being served by the waitresses in their smart black and white uniforms. There was a bakery counter at the front and an atmosphere of conviviality, despite evidence of the war playing out all around. She spotted her father, Victor, before he saw her and having not seen him for almost a year, her mouth went dry and her heart pounded in her chest. Standing to wave, she could barely conceal her excitement.

  ‘Father!’ she called. ‘Over here!’

  As she watched Victor walk towards her, dressed in a smart suit despite the hot weather, Lily felt overwhelmed. Seeing him like this made her realise just how much she had missed him over the last months – and she felt angry, upset and happy all at once.

  ‘Lily,’ he said, greeting her with wet eyes. ‘How are you? I—’

  Lily studied Victor’s expression as his eyes slipped from her face to Joy’s. He seemed to be frozen to the spot, and even when the waitress brought over their pot of tea, he didn’t move. She panicked, wondering suddenly if he might just turn around and leave the café.

  ‘I know I said I wouldn’t bring her, and that I’d come alone,’ said Lily hurriedly. ‘But I wanted to show you that she’s the innocent one in all of this. I want you to understand why I can’t give her to Henry and Helen, even if it means she’d have a more privileged life. That she’s my child and a part of our family, of your family. I wanted her to meet her grandfather and know that I love you.’

  She lifted Joy up, sat down and perched her on her knee, silently praying that she wouldn’t cry. Victor, continuing to stare at Joy, sat down slowly on the seat opposite. Lily watched emotions flicker across his face.

  ‘She’s exactly like you,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s taking me back to when you were a baby. I feel – I’m disorientated, Lily.’

  He leaned back in his chair and shook his head, muttering, as if in conversation with himself.

  ‘When your mother and I had you,’ he started, ‘I was a good father. I loved you and your red hair and your bonny face. Your mother too, I loved with all my heart. When she fell pregnant with your brother, I was the happiest man in London – life was going just fine. But then, when your mother and brother died in childbirth, it was as if a black veil had been pulled over our lives. You, just four years old at the time, missed your mother so much, it broke my heart. I couldn’t replace her, and I wasn’t good enough for you—’

  ‘But you were,’ said Lily, her voice trembling. ‘You were always enough.’

  Victor’s lip wobbled as he struggled to contain his emotions. Lily had never, ever seen him like this, and she wished she knew how to console him.

  ‘I tried to be a good father to you,’ he continued. ‘It was just you and I, and as you know, I’m a rather old-fashioned man. My own father barely spoke to his children. I didn’t want to be like him, but I became more like him as the years went on and, well, when this happened, when you fell pregnant, I didn’t know what to do. It took me by surprise.’

  Victor stopped talking and regained his composure, pouring himself and Lily a cup of tea. Words rushed into her mouth and sensing this meeting would be short, she blurted them out.

  ‘Father,’ she said, ‘I know I’ve let you down and brought shame to your doorstep. I know I made a terrible mistake and that I acted carelessly and selfishly and that people can be very cruel about girls like me. But I have to move on from that and look to the future. Henry approaching me about adoption made me realise that I need to make sure Joy has security in her life. I want to get a job, to help with the war effort, and earn some money so I can save up. I want Joy to know her family. I don’t want us to be strangers. I miss you terribly and have so many things I want to talk to you about. I love Audrey and the people at the bakery, but I miss you.’ Flicking her gaze up to his, she smiled. ‘Would you like to hold her?’ she said.

  Lifting Joy over to Victor’s knee, Lily held her breath as he awkwardly supported her small, squidgy frame. Joy giggled and wound her fingers around his finger, her cheeks pink and her eyes on everyone and everything in the tea room, blissfully unaware of the significance of this meeting. Relief washed over Lily when a small smile crept onto Victor’s face.

  ‘I know you don’t want me to live at home,’ said Lily. ‘And anyway, it’s not safe in London. But I would like you to come and see me in Bournemouth if travel is permitted. I know Audrey and William would like that too.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ her father said. ‘William and I parted on very unfriendly terms.’

  Lily recalled the night William and Audrey had suddenly left the family home, seven years earlier. It had happened after an argument when Victor told Audrey and William that the
y were no longer permitted to mention their dead father’s name, Don, in the house. William had objected to that and had argued with Victor – and Daphne, who sided with Victor. The whole thing had got out of hand, terrible, unsayable things were said and punches were thrown. Victor had thrown Audrey and William out of the house – and they had fled to Bournemouth.

  ‘Why did you dislike Don so much?’ Lily asked gently.

  ‘I didn’t dislike him,’ said Victor, looking uncomfortable. ‘I felt, oh, I don’t know, I felt that Daphne would always love him more than me. William and Audrey, my stepchildren, idolised him. I didn’t want to be second best. It was complicated. I’ve been very foolish.’

  Admitting that he was wrong was clearly difficult for Victor and his expression darkened. He handed Joy back to Lily, standing from his chair, making to leave. He seemed terribly ill at ease, as if he had said too much. Gathering himself together, he buttoned up his coat – and his emotions.

  ‘But you’ve only just got here,’ said Lily, feeling choked.

  Victor checked his pocket watch, opened his mouth to reply but, saying nothing, leant down to kiss Lily briefly on the cheek. She smiled up at him, trying to communicate how much she loved him in that one smile.

  ‘I need some time to think this all through,’ he said. ‘Goodbye, Lily – and thank you for coming here.’

  ‘Goodbye, Father,’ she said, cuddling Joy, who was tugging at escaped tendrils of Lily’s hair and trying to stand on her lap, strengthening her chubby little legs.

  Lily kept her eyes on her father until he’d left the café. She longed for him to look back and wave at her, but he didn’t, until he was almost out of sight – and then he turned and raised a hand. Lily beamed and waved frantically through the window. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed. And then he was gone.