‘Believe me, lass, there was many a time I wondered afore we got together.’
‘Well, you needn’t have worried.’
As he hurried her out of the door into the hall beyond, the old lady who occupied the top part of the house came down the stairs, her sprightly step belying the fact she was well into her seventies. As the two women went ahead of him to the Anderson shelter which Mrs Ramshaw’s son had insisted on digging out and installing for his mother, Ronald thought, She’ll never know what she means to me, not really. It wasn’t only in the generous giving of her body - it had been a revelation to him that a woman could give and receive such pleasure - but her total adoration of him that had made him feel like a man again. He wanted nothing more than to make her happy for the rest of his life.
They had just reached the Anderson shelter in the backyard and got themselves settled in when the first dull explosions began, the anti-aircraft guns contributing to what was now a familiar sound.
‘I’d just put me shin o’ beef on,’ Mrs Ramshaw said plaintively to Kitty. ‘You put your dinner on yet?’ And without waiting for an answer, ‘I like to let me shin o’ beef do for three or four hours, melts in the mouth then, it does.’
Ronald screwed his buttocks into his wooden chair and glanced at Kitty. She met his eyes and she was smiling. She was so good with Mrs Ramshaw but he had to admit the hours he’d spent in this shelter listening to the old woman rattle on about this and that without pausing for breath were a trial.
Another crunching explosion sounded and it was nearer this time. Good job he’d insisted they come to the shelter, looked like the blighters meant business this morning. ‘You warm enough?’ he said to Kitty, and although she nodded he was sure her teeth were chattering. It was cold enough to freeze the drips from your nose in here and with it only being the middle of March, there was no chance of it warming up for weeks. But would Mrs Ramshaw let him bring a paraffin stove down? Would she heck. Convinced they’d be burned alive if a bomb landed near enough to shake the shelter. Like he said to Kitty, if one was that close, likely the last thing they’d have to worry about was the damn paraffin stove.
He blew on his hands to warm them up but in the next moment he was on his feet holding Kitty close. The shuddering explosion had made both women scream and now Kitty clung to him, saying, ‘That one was close, Ron, really close.’
‘That means the worst of it is over. They’ll be moving on to—’
He never got to finish the sentence because a thundering roar took them both off their feet as their world erupted in shattered corrugated iron and dirt.Together they went down, his arms holding her tight and his body over hers and that of their unborn child.
Chapter 21
‘Who needs some of this beetroot juice for tonight?’
‘Me!’ echoed from all corners of the hut and Amy smiled as she placed a jam jar half full of cooked beetroot juice on the table.
‘Help yourselves then,’ she said, ‘and I’ve got some gravy browning for anyone who hasn’t got any stockings.’
‘You’re an absolute angel,’ Isobel enthused as she bounded across to her. ‘It’s so perfect having someone who works in the kitchens as a friend. Not that I don’t like you for yourself, ’ she added hastily, ‘but I ran out of lipstick and silk stockings ages ago.’
‘Now the Yanks are in the war, folk are saying they’ll bring plenty of stuff over,’ said a tall blonde girl from the back of the room.
Isobel grimaced. ‘My Philip’s already laid down the law about the Yanks. He doesn’t want me within six foot of one.’
‘But they’re our allies,’ protested the other girl.
Isobel shrugged.
‘Well, I haven’t got a husband to tell me what to do,’ the blonde said happily, ‘and I intend to get closer than six foot.’
‘Are you and Nick going to the dance?’ Gertie asked as the others continued the discussion about the possible benefits of the arrival of the GIs. Over the last few months it had gradually become common knowledge that Amy and Pilot Officer Nick Johnson were seeing each other. No one had pressed Amy for details, not even on domestic nights which came round once a week, when all airwomen were forced to stay in and do domestic chores - something which was bitterly resented because the airmen escaped it. Amy had found she liked these nights, though, as did most of the girls. Secrets were whispered and confidences made and kept, and hut companions became real friends. By the time of the ritual toast and cocoa around ten thirty, everyone always agreed they didn’t know why they made such a fuss about staying in anyway.
‘Yes, we’re going.’
‘So are me and Bruce.’
Amy nodded. Bruce had asked Gertie out quite a few times now but he was still taking things very slowly because of the ten-year age difference between them. Amy could understand this, and she knew from the odd thing he’d said that the example of Charles rushing her had contributed to his wariness and that he wanted Gertie to be sure of her own mind, considering he was her first boyfriend. Nevertheless, Amy felt if ever there was a Jack for a Jill, it was those two.
‘I don’t suppose Cassie will be coming,’ Gertie said now.
Amy shook her head.‘She’s too cut up.’ Cassie had married her pilot in December and lots of the WAAFs had got involved when they’d discovered the bride-to-be had no coupons for a new wedding outfit. Consequently Cassie had walked down the aisle in a beautiful silver-grey suit and a peplum and rose-coloured hat. Her blouse had been cut down from a silk tea-gown, which had also provided a saucy peek-a-boo bow for the hat. Everyone had been thrilled for her, as thrilled as they were horrified when a week ago Cassie’s husband had been shot down over France.
‘Poor Cassie.’ Gertie shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if Bruce was a pilot.’ And then she clapped her hand over her mouth, her voice rushed when she said, ‘Oh, Amy, I’m so sorry, me and my big mouth. That was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean anything.’
‘It’s all right.’ Amy patted her arm. ‘I wish Nick wasn’t a pilot myself but then I don’t suppose he would be Nick, flying’s such a part of him.’ She plumped down on her bed, her voice low as she said, ‘I feel awful, Gertie, about Nick.’
Gertie sat down beside her. ‘You still haven’t told him about Charles?’
Amy shook her head.
‘Don’t you think you should?’
How did she answer that? The truthful reply would be to say she had never expected her relationship with Nick to go the way it had. Far from trying any coaxing or sweet-talk to get her into bed, he had played it absolutely straight down the middle from the word go. They’d had three dates before he had even kissed her goodnight. Since then their - what? friendship? love affair? liaison? - had progressed slowly but surely, though she felt as if Nick was handling her with kid gloves most of the time.
Amy looked into her friend’s concerned face. ‘I know I should have told him in the beginning,’ she said simply. ‘Now I don’t know how to.’
‘Do you love him, Amy?’
She nodded. ‘But I kept expecting he’d get tired of me and so there would be no need to say anything.’
Gertie stared into the lovely face in front of her. ‘I don’t think he’s ever going to get tired of you,’ she said.
‘But what will he say? It’s been months. I’ve virtually been living a lie, haven’t I? And I’ve put Bruce in a difficult position, him being Nick’s friend, and I know he’s annoyed with me for not saying anything because he’s told me so. It’s a mess.’
There was a silence between them now and in the background the other members of the hut were squealing and carrying on as they stained their lips with the beetroot juice. Then Gertie said quietly, ‘Tell him you didn’t expect to fall for him, start with that.’
Amy blinked, bit on her lip and nodded. ‘I’ll tell him tonight. I’ve been thinking how to do it for weeks but I’ve just got to say it, haven’t I?’
‘It will be all right.’ Now it was
Gertie who patted her hand. ‘Everyone knows he’s crazy about you.’
Amy smiled weakly. Charles had supposedly been crazy about her and look how that had turned out. She was going to inform Nick that she was a married woman who had left her husband because his drunken violence had caused her to miscarry their child. As if that wasn’t a big enough shock, she had to explain that the miscarriage had robbed her of having more babies in the future. Nick was a young man. He would want a family of his own one day when all this madness was over.
A light-hearted little romance. That was what she had expected this to be and it had been nice to be wanted again, to know someone was thinking about her at different moments of the day, to know she was just a bit special to him. To Nick. What she hadn’t expected was to fall in love. But all that was no excuse for not coming clean about her past before now. It was just that she hadn’t wanted him not to like her any more . . .
A big group of airmen and WAAFs were hitching a lift in two of the camp lorries into town that night for a dance the local Baptist church was putting on in its church hall. Bruce and one of the RAF pilots had drawn the short straws to drive the two lorries, which meant they couldn’t get as merry as the others intended to do, not if they were going to negotiate the curves and bumps in the road on the way back in the blackout.
Nick was waiting by Bruce’s lorry as Amy, Gertie, Isobel and some of the other girls made their way towards the RAF contingent. He looked clean and handsome in his uniform and more dashing than any man had a right to be, Amy thought, her eyes feasting on him as she raised her hand in answer to his wave. She wished they were going somewhere together, just the two of them, as they had the previous Sunday.That had been a wonderful day.They had hired cycles from a local shop and had a lovely time exploring the country lanes in the sharp cold March air. They had finished up at a little farm in the middle of nowhere where the farmer’s wife had cooked them a delicious tea of sausages, steak, orange-yolked fresh eggs and fried bread for the princely sum of one shilling and fourpence each, all washed down with as much home-brewed cider as they could drink. Amy had arrived back at camp thoroughly replete and more than a little tiddly, clutching the huge bag of buttered cheese scones the farmer’s wife had pressed on her as they were leaving. ‘For some of your pals,’ she’d said. ‘I like to think some Greek wife fed my lad before he was killed. April last year it was, when Athens fell to the Germans. Twenty, my Arnold was, and he could have stayed home and helped his father on the farm but he wanted to be out there doing his bit for King and country.’
‘You look sombre.’ Nick put his arm round her, kissing her hard on the lips regardless of the others.
When she came up for air, she said, ‘I was thinking about last Sunday and that poor farmer’s wife. Her only son, Nick.’
He nodded, his expression changing as he added, ‘But we’re going dancing right now so you’re not allowed to think of anything or anyone but me. Right?’
‘Right.’
There was a great deal of singing and larking about on the way into town, but as Amy sat with Nick’s arm about her shoulders, squeezed tight between him and Isobel, her heart wasn’t in ‘Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy’ or any of the other popular war songs being sung with such gusto. Would he understand how her deception had come about or would he distrust anything she claimed from now on? And she didn’t expect he would want her for ever, not when he knew she couldn’t give him children, but with life so uncertain, even tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed so for ever seemed a million miles away. Oh, Nick, please don’t hate me when I tell you. Her stomach turned over and she was glad of the din that prevented conversation because she couldn’t have made small talk to save her life.
They all piled out of the lorries when they reached the car park adjacent to the church hall. Couples were already dancing to ‘Tiger Rag’ which the band was hammering out with more enthusiasm than expertise when they entered the hall. Down one side of the long room several tables were set with sandwiches and homemade cakes, along with a huge barrel of beer and plenty of bottles of homemade wine, cider, lemonade and other beverages.
Amy would have drawn Nick aside then and there but they were part of a group which included Bruce, Gertie, Isobel and others, and it would have appeared rude. Consequently they all sat down at one of the free tables at the end of the hall near the stage on which the band were playing, and there talk was impossible.
When Nick pulled her up to dance she didn’t object, determining after a minute or two she would whisper for them to go outside where it was quieter. After months of procrastination, now she had made the decision to tell Nick everything she found she couldn’t wait.
‘You seem tense tonight.’
The music had changed just as they’d reached the couples dancing and now ‘Blues in the Night’ meant she was folded close into him. ‘I am.’ She smiled as she put her head back and looked up at him. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘That sounds ominous.’ Nick was smiling too but his green eyes held a questioning, slightly wary expression.
‘Can we find somewhere quiet at the end of this number?’
‘Why wait? I never want to be with other people if I can be alone with you,’ murmured Nick.
Amy smiled at him, and then in the next instant her jaw slackened and her eyes widened in disbelief.
‘Amy? What is it?’ Nick’s face showed his concern. ‘What’s the matter?’
Perce. What on earth was Perce doing here, at this dance? Had he come to find her? But that was silly, ridiculous, he didn’t know she was here. And then as she watched the big heavy figure in a snappy suit make his way over to the table where Bruce was sitting, her heart began to beat in her ears so loudly it drowned out the music and Nick’s urgent voice. She saw Perce bend down and say something to Bruce who had begun to rise when he noticed his brother’s approach. Then Bruce seemed to fall back in his chair, shaking his head as Gertie, beside him, put her hand on his arm.
Amy wasn’t dancing now. She was standing stock-still with Nick amidst the slowly moving couples all around them, and as Bruce searched the dance floor and then met her gaze, she knew. This was bad news. Something had happened. Something terrible, if it had brought Perce to find Bruce.
Their eyes locked and held, and then as Perce turned and looked to see where Bruce was staring, Amy’s gaze moved to her elder cousin for one moment.The incredulous expression on Perce’s face would have been laughable in any other circumstances.
She tore her gaze from the dark eyes across the room which even now had the power to make her tremble. ‘It’s Perce,’ she muttered. ‘Bruce’s brother. There must be something wrong at home.’
She didn’t look at Perce again as she made her way across the room but she knew he was staring at her the whole time. She could feel it. She reached the table with Nick at her side, his hand on her elbow. Immediately Bruce, his face ashen, said, ‘I’m sorry, Amy. It’s Kitty and Da.’
‘No.’ And yet she had sensed it the moment she had seen Perce. Somehow she had known it wasn’t any of the others who had brought him to the camp. ‘Are ... are they . . .’
It was Perce who said, ‘Their shelter was flattened. Funny thing is, if they’d stayed in the house they would have been all right. The blast only shattered the windows there. Still, better to go outright than be left like some poor blighters I know, that’s what I always say.’
He was willing her to look at him. Through her shock and turmoil Amy was aware that although Perce was talking in a soft, suitably sombre voice, it was a façade. He was angry she was here with Bruce, angry she had been dancing with Nick. All the years since she’d seen him last hadn’t changed a thing. She forced herself to meet his gaze now, determined he wouldn’t see how he frightened her still. ‘They died instantly?’
‘Oh aye, no doubt about it.’ He moistened his thick bottom lip with his tongue. ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he added after an infinitesimal pause.
He was trying to intimidate her like in
the old days. As the knowledge hit, she heard Bruce stand up and say, ‘Well, you’ve found her so that’s saved you some time, hasn’t it?’ The harsh tone of his voice was enough to cause Nick’s eyes to narrow and everyone to look first at her and then at the two brothers.
‘You’re on the same camp.’ Perce was speaking as much to himself as Bruce. ‘Cosy, eh?’ he said in a different tone of voice. ‘Very cosy. And I suppose Da was in on this.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Bruce’s voice was more controlled now. ‘Amy happened to be posted to the same camp as me a few months ago. End of story.’
‘End of story?’ Perce turned to face Amy and Nick, his gaze moving to Nick’s arm round her waist. ‘Oh, I see, like that, is it? You’ve had your nose pushed out by one of these flash so-an’-sos. By, she never aims low, does our Amy. Likes ’em from the top of the pile. I saw your husband the other day if you’re interested,’ he added as his gaze focused on Amy’s white face. ‘Still drinking himself to death because you ran out on him.’
The Rainbow Years Page 31