Better Days Will Come

by Pam Weaver

  The RAF had already lost nearly all its aircraft by the time the Japanese air force had attacked the airfields in December 1941. The British planners shifted their confidence to the battleship Prince of Wales and the battle cruiser Repulse but on December 10th both ships were sunk by repeated attacks from Japanese torpedo bombers. Even with these setbacks, morale was high and so was confidence. After all, the British, Indian and Australian troops led by Lieutenant General Arthur Percival numbered some 90,000 men, whereas the Japanese only had 65,000. In the final showdown, on January 31st 1942, Percival spread his men across the entire coastline of the island, a distance of some 70 miles. This was a disastrous mistake. He had grossly underestimated the strength of the Japanese and the British were soundly defeated.

  The Japanese took 100,000 people prisoner in Singapore, including Tommy and Harriet Bennett. The pair spent the next three years interned less than five miles from each other, but never once in all that time did they meet. In fact, neither had any idea if the other was still alive. Harriet seldom spoke of the unspeakable horrors they had endured but the ravages to her body meant that she had lost the ability to have children.

  When they returned to the UK, Tommy had been invalided out of the army, but the still relatively young Harriet had taken on the responsibility of this children’s home near Kingston Upon Thames.

  ‘Come in, come in.’

  The flat itself was warm and cosy; Harriet had a flair for homemaking. She showed Lady Brayfield into a small sitting room with a cheerful fire in the hearth. There was a sofa and two deep armchairs covered in a floral chintz material and hand-embroidered scatter cushions. Lady Brayfield remarked how nice they were.

  ‘I saw them in a magazine,’ Harriet smiled.

  The middle of the room was carpeted and the surrounds were deep oak-coloured wood. Her sideboard was covered with photographs of family and friends.

  ‘Sit down, sit down,’ Harriet said. ‘I’ll get us some tea.’

  Four decades ago the women had been at boarding school together, sharing the same dorm. They had remained friends, a comfortable relationship which had not been altered by the war. Occasionally they met together in London for afternoon tea but this was the first time Lady Brayfield had been to Kingston.

  ‘How’s Tommy?’

  Harriet was clattering away in the kitchen. ‘Doing quite well,’ she called. ‘He spends a lot of time out of doors in the garden.’ She reappeared in the doorway with a tray of cups and saucers. ‘He can’t bear to be confined, so he’s become quite an expert gardener. He’s quite content.’

  Marion nodded. ‘Doesn’t he want to return to the diplomatic service?’

  Harriet shook her head. ‘Actually, he’s thinking of taking holy orders. You know, I think we’re the happiest we’ve ever been. You must let me take you on a tour of the nursery before you leave. Our living companions are a lot smaller than we’re used to but I don’t think I would swap my life now for the heady existence we had before the war.’

  Marion laughed. ‘You certainly look well on it.’

  Harriet went back into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with the teapot. They made small talk, catching up with news of old friends, and Harriet sympathised with Marion over her daughter.

  ‘On a more optimistic note,’ Marion said, ‘she may be allowed out of the nursing home for Christmas.’

  ‘Oh Marion, that’s wonderful.’ She handed her friend a cup of tea and indicated the sugar bowl.

  Lady Brayfield nodded. ‘She’ll have to go back Boxing Day, but it’s a small step, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s a bloody big step,’ Harriet enthused. ‘Excuse my French. I can’t imagine how you’ve coped.’

  ‘Which brings me to the reason why I’m here,’ she said. ‘It would take me far too long to tell you exactly how it came about but I have found this wonderful Girl Friday.’

  Harriet gave Marion her full attention as she told her about Bonnie. ‘She’s quite turned Richard around. He’s polite, enthusiastic about his schoolwork and I sometimes hear him laughing again. He’ll never be top drawer of course, but in a very short space of time, the girl has done wonders.’

  ‘She sounds like a real gem,’ smiled Harriet. ‘You should hang on to her.’

  ‘I wish I could,’ said Marion. ‘There’s only one small problem … she’s pregnant.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Harriet pausing with a homemade biscuit halfway to her mouth.

  ‘And that’s where you come in,’ said Marion.

  ‘Surely you’re not suggesting I take her in?’

  Lady Brayfield nodded. ‘Hear me out, darling,’ she said. ‘You’ve always said you want to make a difference to those less fortunate than ourselves. This girl is capable and kind. She’s made an error of judgement but she’s contrite. I honestly believe she should be given a second chance.’

  ‘Then let her give her baby up for adoption.’

  ‘Adoption is all well and good, but I wonder what damage it does to both mother and child being separated. The maternal bond is very strong. If the war taught us anything, it taught us that a mother will go to any length to care for her child and so long as the child has its mother, it can face any deprivation with courage.’

  Harriet looked thoughtful. Marion was right. She’d seen it for herself in those terrible camps. She sat back in her chair. ‘When is the baby due?’

  ‘April.’

  ‘Tell her to come to me then and I’ll see what I can do.’

  Lady Brayfield looked pensive. ‘Darling, if we’re going to do this, I think we need a better commitment than that.’

  ‘I’m not sure the council will allow it,’ Harriet frowned. ‘Who is going to pay for the upkeep of the child?’

  ‘I’ve already looked into that,’ said Marion undaunted. ‘There’s a government allowance she can apply for and if you deduct her board and lodging and her child care from her salary, I don’t see why she shouldn’t live on the premises with her child.’

  Harriet opened her mouth but her friend raised her hand and continued. ‘Why shouldn’t an unmarried mother take full responsibility for her child? Think of it, Harriet. We could be starting a new era of responsible parenting. These girls have their babies and someone else takes the responsibility. If girls had to face up to their responsibility, I’m sure there would be fewer illegitimate births. And besides, what could be more natural than keeping a child with its birth mother?’

  Her friend looked thoughtful. ‘It won’t be easy,’ she said. ‘How will she find time to care for the baby and work at the same time?’

  ‘I’m sure you could come to some sort of mutual agreement,’ said Marion. ‘This is a nursery, for heaven’s sake.’

  Marion looked thoughtful. ‘I can foresee problems further down the line as well,’ she said. ‘The girl will favour her child above the others. It’s only natural.’

  ‘Harriet, I remember some of what you told me about life at the camps,’ said Marion. ‘I admired the way you set down ground rules and everyone adhered to them. This girl is so desperate to keep her baby, I’m sure she will co-operate with whatever you deem as necessary.’

  ‘Well, you’ve certainly taken the wind out of my sails,’ said Harriet shaking her head. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

  ‘I can’t say I have,’ Marion smiled. ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’

  Harriet gave her a slow smile. ‘I suppose it is.’

  ‘Good,’ said Marion setting down her cup and saucer decisively. ‘Then that’s settled.’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Harriet protested. ‘I still have to persuade the council yet.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll do an admirable job,’ smiled Marion.

  ‘It won’t be easy,’ Harriet cautioned.

  ‘Talk to them about the cost,’ said Marion. ‘They love the idea of saving money. Tell them that by the time you’ve deducted everything, they’ll be getting a top-class worker for half the price.’

  ‘You’re incorrigibl
e,’ Harriet grinned. ‘We should have more people like you in government.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ said Marion. ‘We women already rule the world.’

  Ten

  The girls at work were horrified when they saw the state of Grace’s face on Monday morning. The black eye was beginning to fade and the place where her head had hit the floor was almost back to normal but for some reason her cheek was still quite blue and puffy. They wanted to know what had happened and when she gave them a brief outline of events, they showered her with concern. Snowy was particularly upset.

  ‘I had a bad feeling about you walking around with all that money,’ she said. ‘I should have said something.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have listened,’ said Grace honestly. ‘I just wanted the money out of the house and into the hands of those who had saved it.’

  Once they began their work on the production line, talking was almost impossible over the noise of the machines and Grace certainly didn’t want to shout her business to the rooftops. She worked slowly and steadily until their mid-morning break.

  ‘I’ve got to find a way of getting extra money,’ she confided in Snowy. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘None,’ Snowy said, ‘but if you think of something, let me know. I could do with a bob or two myself.’ But no sooner were the words were out of her mouth than she realised Grace was serious. ‘You’re not thinking of paying them out of your own pocket, are you?’

  ‘I’ll have to.’

  ‘No one expects you to,’ said Snowy. ‘What happened wasn’t your fault. That’s life.’

  ‘I have to,’ Grace repeated.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes then Snowy said, ‘Can you sell something?’

  ‘The piano’s gone and the clock. I had saved a bit of money myself, that can go, and Cyril Harper gave me fifteen bob for Michael’s cup.’ Grace related the story and Snowy listened wide-eyed with amazement.

  ‘So how much have you got altogether?’

  ‘Twenty-three pounds, seventeen and ninepence,’ said Grace. ‘I still need twenty six pounds two shillings and thruppence.’

  ‘Ouch,’ said Snowy. ‘I’ve no idea where you could get that kind of money in a hurry.’ She thought for a minute. ‘Have you asked Taffy Morgan if he needs somebody to play the piano?’

  ‘I think he’s already got someone,’ said Grace.

  ‘Surely not seven nights a week,’ Snowy suggested. ‘The fella must have a night off.’

  ‘I’m not sure Taffy would like the idea of a woman playing in a pub but I suppose it’s worth a try,’ Grace sighed.

  ‘Look here,’ said Snowy. ‘As you know, I’ve been making dollies for Christmas.’ She had come to the factory last October with a sweet little rag dolly she’d made out of an old pair of stockings and some underwear. She intended to keep it for when her Kate had a child but the girls were so taken with it they pressured her to make dollies for them. She had ended up with a fair-sized order for Christmas. ‘I only made them out of scraps. They didn’t cost me a penny but everybody paid me. It’s not much, but you are welcome to it.’

  Grace’s eyes pricked with tears. ‘Oh Snowy, you are kind but I can’t.’ She squeezed Snowy’s hand. ‘You’re a real pal.’

  Snowy’s cheeks flushed. ‘Get on with you.’

  Norah Fox, the supervisor, blew her whistle and the women went back to the production line. As they stood to go, she said, ‘The boss wants to see you in his office, Grace.’

  Grace stiffened. ‘What for?’

  Norah shrugged.

  Grace glanced anxiously around at her workmates. He can’t do anything here, she thought. Not with everyone else around. All the same she dreaded the thought of being alone in the same room as him.

  Norris Finley’s office was up the stairs and along a metal staircase going along the factory wall. As she made her way along, Grace was aware of every eye following her. She knocked on the door and entered.

  Norris was sitting behind his desk, on the telephone. He motioned for her to take a seat and finished his call before turning his attention to her.

  ‘Good God, Grace,’ he exclaimed as he put the receiver down, ‘whatever happened?’

  Grace relayed the now familiar story and he regaled her with questions. ‘Have you had a doctor look at that face?’ She nodded. ‘Do you need time off to recover?’ She shook her head. ‘Have they caught the blighter yet?’ Again she shook her head. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

  Grace was poised to shake her head again when a thought crossed her mind. ‘Can you give me some overtime? I want to pay the people back.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ he said, his voice rising. ‘You don’t owe them anything. It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘They saved long and hard for that money,’ said Grace. ‘I’ve sold some things and I’ve got nearly twenty-four quid but I still need a lot more.’

  ‘How much?’ he said faintly.

  ‘Twenty-six, twenty-seven quid.’

  ‘It would take you months and months to pay them back even with overtime,’ he said.

  Grace nodded. ‘I know, and they’ve promised they’ll wait. I feel badly enough about the miserable Christmas they’ll all be having this year. Don’t you see? I have to get their money back.’

  Norris was staring so hard she was beginning to feel embarrassed, when all at once he stood up and went to the safe at the back of the office. After turning the dial, he fiddled around inside for several minutes then stood up saying, ‘Grace, I want you to have this.’

  When he stood up, he had a wad of notes in his hand. Grace rose to her feet. ‘Oh no, Mr Finley, I can’t. It’s very kind but I can’t.’

  He counted and held out thirty pounds. ‘Take it, Grace. For old times’ sake. Look, I’m really sorry about the other day. I don’t know what got into me. I was way out of line and I’m sorry.’

  She hesitated.

  ‘You don’t want this to spoil Rita’s Christmas, do you?’ He waved the notes in her face. ‘I’m sure she’s upset enough about her sister running off like that. Take this and enjoy the holiday.’

  Grace was puzzled. Norris wasn’t known for his generosity. If he gave something there was always a catch. What was the real motive behind this? She hated herself for being so churlish but she knew him too well. She shook her head again. ‘It’s very kind of you but I can’t. If you would just give me some overtime …’

  ‘So those people will have to forgo their Christmas this year all because of your pride,’ he said sharply.

  Grace was cut to the quick. This was the third time someone had offered to help. Each time it came from a totally unexpected source. She turned to face him.

  ‘All right,’ she said quietly. ‘Thank you, Norris. I’ll take you up on your offer.’

  He smiled and reached for an envelope. Stuffing the money inside he pushed the lip inside it and handed it to her.

  Grace hesitated before putting out her hand. ‘No strings attached?’

  ‘As if,’ he grinned.

  ‘I mean it, Norris.’

  He looked her straight in the eye. ‘No strings attached.’

  She turned and left the room, closing the door softly as she left. Norris watched her go, his eyes fixed on her bottom and the gentle sway of her hips under that thick gabardine overall all the factory girls wore. He hadn’t really noticed before but it was obvious the woman didn’t wear a girdle. A smile played on his mouth and he sighed in anticipation. Let her enjoy her Christmas. Come the New Year and he would claim his prize. Everyone had their price and when the time was right, he’d reel her in. He felt himself harden. It was a long time since he’d wanted a woman so badly.

  Eleven

  Christmas Eve was a hive of activity in the town house. Bonnie and Richard put up paper chains and she left him putting up the Christmas cards while she went to the kitchen to collect his mid-morning milk and biscuit.

  Cook was talking to someone who had just brought some sprigs of holly ‘brought up from
the country’. He looked suspiciously like a spiv. The government had been talking about cracking down on them but in these austere times they seemed to mushroom on every street corner. Apparently this one had just happened to knock on the back door, but Bonnie wasn’t convinced. It seemed to her that he had come by prior arrangement, and Dora had let him in. He was neatly suited and wore highly polished shoes. He and Cook huddled together for a few minutes and then he went outside again.

  Bonnie thoroughly disapproved of the black market. Her mother had always refused to be part of it. She couldn’t help wondering how much the holly had cost. A tidy penny, she thought. How far away home felt at that moment. It was easy enough to find holly in Titnore Woods or across the fields near Durrington. The spiv came back with a small chicken when Cook turned around and saw Bonnie looking. She put her finger to her lips and shook her head and Bonnie knew to keep quiet.

  The spiv was clean-shaven but when she came close up, Bonnie could see that his David Niven-style moustache had been helped along with a black pencil. As he left he bumped her shoulder.

  ‘Want a nice pair of stockings, lady?’ he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Two and a tanner. You won’t get better.’

  For a second or two Bonnie was sorely tempted. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had a nice pair of stockings but she shook her head. She didn’t do it out of a noble desire to avoid the black market, nor out of churlishness, but quite simply because she had nowhere to go and no one to wear them for. The door burst open and Lady Brayfield walked in.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ she frowned crossly.

  Cook blushed a deep red.

  ‘Just on my way, Missus,’ said the spiv brightly. He tipped his hat. ‘I can see I’ll have no joy here. Morning, ladies.’

  ‘And make this the last time,’ said Lady Brayfield crisply. ‘I’m going to make sure that the side gate is locked so you needn’t come back when I’m gone.’