All the Days of Our Lives

by Annie Murray

  ‘I don’t s’pose you have,’ the woman said, exposing her teeth in a big grin. She looked a handful, Molly thought, and not just in the curves department.

  ‘Where’ve you come from?’ Molly asked, trying to change the subject.

  ‘Wandsworth. We’re on our honeymoon,’ the young man said eagerly.

  ‘Can we have a cuppa tea now?’ the girl asked abruptly.

  ‘I’ll get it straight away,’ Molly said, tempted to wish the young man luck.

  ‘Mr Lester told me that it all went very well!’ Mrs Lester told Molly later. She appeared by eleven o’clock, seeming more rested and with the faintest hint of colour in her cheeks. Molly had been clearing breakfast and then cleaning in the house, vacuuming the stairs and cleaning the two bathrooms. Mrs Lester found her cleaning the bath on the middle floor. ‘I’m very grateful to you – and he said your voice is a treat!’

  ‘Oh!’ Molly stood up. All these compliments in one morning! ‘Well – thanks.’

  ‘Now, I’d like to send you out with a list,’ Mrs Lester said.

  It was a nice day and Molly was more than happy to go out shopping, away from the dark house. She set off with a basket over each arm, the list, money and ration books. As soon as she was out of the house she felt more cheerful. The combination of Mr Lester’s oppressive presence and the poorly Mrs Lester tiptoeing round him was already beginning to get her down.

  Clacton felt very bare compared to how she remembered it. All the wartime obstructions to holidaymaking had taken up a lot of room. The beach had been wired off then, and all the roads leading off Marine Parade had been blocked by more wire and concrete pyramids across the roads, known as ‘pimples’, to discourage invaders. The town had been bustling full of forces personnel, especially army. Now they were all gone and, though there were people going about their business, they were each in their own little world, not like all the group endeavours of the war – no army lorries roaring up to collect a gaggle of them for the practice camp at Jaywick. Life felt quiet and shapeless. What was the point in anything now that the war was over?

  Taking a short detour, she walked along to the house where she had been lodged with Cath and a group of other ATS on ack-ack training. She stood across the road, staring. There it was, just the same, with its wrought-iron railings at the front. A piece of deep-blue carpet was draped over them. Otherwise it looked much the same, though it now seemed to be back in business as a hotel. Any minute, Molly expected Ann or Nora or Cath to come bouncing out of the door and wave across at her. But no, those days were over. All gone.

  Walking along in the sunshine, Molly’s spirits began to sink and she was filled with an aching loneliness. Although it was only a matter of days, it seemed a lifetime ago that she had said goodbye to Cath and the others. Was this her life now? For the first time she questioned her decision to come back to Clacton. She saw herself staying here, in this place where she knew no one, cooking and cleaning in the dark guesthouse for the rest of her days. The future looked very bleak and full of boredom. For the first time in a long time, she found herself longing for a drink when it was only half past eleven in the morning.

  ‘You know,’ Mrs Lester told her as they unpacked the shopping, which Molly had carried home with aching arms, forcing back the tears that were threatening to come. ‘Apart from those years of the war, I’ve lived in this house all my life.’

  Molly realized how happy Mrs Lester was to have someone to talk to, and she wasn’t sorry herself. It was a way of taking her mind off her dismal thoughts today. Apart from her employer, she realized with another stab of gloom, there was no one else at all here that she could talk to.

  ‘Have you, Mrs Lester?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘Oh yes.’ Mrs Lester turned, with a packet of flour in her hand, blushing a little. ‘I should rather like it if you called me by my Christian name – after all, that is why we are given them! It’s Jane.’

  ‘All right then,’ Molly said awkwardly. They exchanged faint smiles.

  ‘But, yes, my late parents ran this establishment for years, and then my father departed this life, and Mother and I continued as Father would have wanted. He was a very devoted Christian man.’ She stopped unpacking the groceries and looked ahead of her. ‘You see, you never know what the Lord has in store. When the war came and the army requisitioned a lot of our guesthouses and hotels, it seemed to us the greatest disaster. You can imagine, I expect. We had to get out and go somewhere. Clacton was overrun with barbed wire and khaki uniforms, or so it seemed to us. So we went to Mother’s sister in Hendon – hardly safer really, but there was no choice. It was all too much for Mother in the end . . . she suffered with her nerves; I’m afraid I’m rather like her. But a chill turned to pneumonia. My poor, dear mother is buried in Hendon, but at least I have the comfort of knowing she’s near her sister. But while we were there, I was attending the chapel of course, as I do, and there I met Mr Lester.’ She smiled a realistic smile at Molly. ‘I never thought I should be able to marry . . . And Mr Lester is so on fire with the Lord – he could see that this work would be an opportunity to evangelize, as well as to earn our living. He’s so brave a man. He has a cleft palate, you see – from birth. But it never stops him trying to share the Good News.’

  It certainly doesn’t, Molly thought. But she was touched, and couldn’t help liking Jane Lester with her pink nose and worn face. Her thoughts of rushing to find another job began to waver. After all, it could be out of the frying pan into the fire.

  ‘And you were here, you said, during the war?’

  ‘Yes!’ Molly felt herself lighting up. ‘Our battery was doing ack-ack training. I was lodging just off Marine Parade. I went to have a look at it this morning, you know, for old times’ sake.’

  ‘Fancy,’ Mrs Lester said. ‘All I did was join the WVS – but with Mother being so ill and Auntie Vi being rather demanding . . . I don’t know. I’m not a very courageous person, I’m afraid. Rather a mouse. Oh my goodness – is that all the bacon? That barely even looks like the ration to me.’ She turned suddenly to Molly. ‘I hope you don’t mind helping Bernard with the morning devotions?’

  ‘Oh,’ Molly hesitated. Did she mind? Yes! She found it all embarrassing. But she’d quite liked the singing, and she didn’t know any of these people who passed through the guesthouse. What did it matter? And she did like the feeling of pleasing people. Mr Lester even smiled at her occasionally now. ‘It’s all right. I expect I’ll get used to it.’

  While out shopping, Molly had bought three postcards and some stamps. That evening, after a session with Jane Lester who had been teaching her ‘Love Divine, All Loves Excelling’ for the next morning, she sat on her bed in the attic room and wrote cards to Em and to Cath and Ruth, both of whom had been with her in the ATS. To the last two she wrote, ‘Here I am in Clacton again. Wish you were here!’

  III

  EM

  Twenty-Seven

  June 1946

  ‘Em, quick. Get down here – it’s for you!’

  Em heard her mom’s voice shrieking up the stairs while she was getting Robbie ready. Heart pounding, she ran, picked up Robbie and, holding him on her hip, ran down the stairs.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Cynthia, with trembling fingers, was holding out a telegram, and for a second Em stared, appalled, thinking the worst.

  ‘Well, take it!’ Cynthia cried.

  Sinking onto a chair by the table, Robbie on her lap, she opened it up:

  Reached London. Home soon. Norm.

  ‘Oh my God – he’s back in England!’ Em found she was breathless. She’d gone quite wobbly. ‘Ooh, I thought they must send him home soon. Oh, Robbie – you’re going to see your dad!’

  Cynthia’s eyes were full of tears. ‘Oh, love – I’m so pleased for you!’ She too sat down suddenly. ‘Funny how you always think it’s going to be bad news, isn’t it?’

  ‘When’s my dad coming home?’ Robbie asked so many times that Em almost began t
o wish she hadn’t told him so soon. At three years old, now means now; not sometime soon, but I’m not sure when. ‘When’s he coming? When’s my dad coming?’ On and on. Em wondered if he even knew what a dad was.

  ‘He’ll be here soon,’ she kept telling him, until her patience snapped. ‘Look, don’t keep on, Robbie – your dad’ll be here as soon as he can, all right?’ She was glad that the news had come on one of the days she didn’t work, but as the day passed she almost wished she was busy in Mr Perry’s shop, to take her mind off the butterflies in her stomach.

  She was full of excitement and also of nerves. This was the moment she had been waiting for, for so long, since she last waved Norm off before Robbie was even born. She knew she loved Norm, but sometimes now she struggled even to remember clearly what he looked like or the sound of his voice. She so longed for him to be here, reassuring old Norm, to take her in his arms, but she was afraid he’d have changed. That’s what they all said: war changed people. The Great War’s survivors had been men who were never the same again – what about this war?

  ‘Oh, Mom,’ Em said to Cynthia later, ‘I feel all churned up, I really do.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ Cynthia said. ‘But it’ll be all right, bab. You’ll see.’

  ‘D’you think he’ll be here today?’

  ‘I’d’ve thought it’d more likely be tomorrow. They have to go through a whole lot of rigmarole, don’t they? D’you want to put a flag out for him – you know, I s’pect we could get hold of some bunting, make a banner?’

  ‘I don’t know that I do,’ Em said. ‘I know it’s silly, but I feel superstitious – as if it might bring bad luck. Let’s just get him home, not count our chickens.’

  A bit later she changed her mind and, calling Robbie, she took him down the road to buy some chalk, and on the wall by the front door she wrote, ‘WELCOME HOME, NORM’ in big letters. Robbie drew a thick, wonky line underneath and something that was meant to be an aeroplane. Neighbours saw her doing it and came and asked.

  Em stood back to look at it. ‘Just hope it doesn’t rain now,’ she said to Cynthia. ‘He most likely won’t be here today anyhow.’

  But that evening, as the last of the light was going, there was a brisk tap on the front door. They all looked at each other: Em, her mom and dad, and Violet. Joyce was out gadding as usual.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Em said, her pulse picking up. Don’t be stupid, she told herself. It’ll just be one of the neighbours.

  There, on the step, stood a man in a suit. Em stared, not taking it in.

  ‘Em – love, it’s me!’

  ‘Norm!’ It came out as a gasp. He looked like a different person – except for the ears, sticking out as ever, unmistakably his.

  ‘Are you going to let me come in?’

  ‘Oh my God, Norm!’ A great pool of emotion broke open in her and their arms were round each other, she clinging to him, sobbing into his chest. All this time he’d been away, and now having him here seemed overwhelming, as if she had never believed he would come back, that they might have a future and a normal married life.

  ‘Oh, love,’ he said, stroking her back. ‘Oh, I’ve been dying to do this: to hold on to you for – well, forever! That’s it, love – I’m back now. Don’t cry, there’s a girl.’

  Em collected herself and took his hand, dragging him into the house.

  ‘Watch it – there’s my bag!’ He picked up the kitbag and then all the family were coming to greet him, Bob slapping him on the back and saying, ‘Welcome home, son’, Violet shyly saying hello, Cynthia kissing him and exclaiming at how he’d filled out, how she’d never’ve recognized him.

  ‘I thought they’d sent us the wrong fella,’ Em laughed through her tears. ‘Let’s have a proper look at you.’

  Norm stood straight and tall in the back room as they all looked him over. In the more than three years he had been away, the gangly youth Em had married had filled out and turned into a man – and, Em saw, a more handsome one than when he left. His shoulders were broad and muscular, and while he was still slender, he looked strong and stood upright. Even the ‘car-doors’ ears, as Sid used to call them, looked slightly less comical now, because his face was fuller, the jaw seeming more pronounced. And he looked tanned and healthy.

  ‘My, my,’ Cynthia said admiringly. ‘Well, I can’t say it looks as if it’s done you any harm – look at you! Anyroad, let’s all stop gawping at him and give the poor lad a bite to eat. Not that there’s much to go on – that’ll be a shock to you,’ she added.

  ‘What about Robbie?’ Norm said. He took Em’s hand again, couldn’t seem to stop touching her.

  ‘He’s asleep.’ She looked up at him, clinging to him too, still drinking in the sight. She was still almost unable to believe he was here. ‘D’you want to come up and see him?’

  ‘Nothing’d stop me,’ Norm said. ‘Hang on a sec . . .’ He crouched down. ‘I’ll take these bleeding shoes off first. I got them in the demob and they squeak like hell.’

  Still holding hands, Em going first, the two of them crept up the stairs in their stockinged feet. She pulled him into the room where Robbie slept in her bed, and they left the door open so that some light could spill through.

  ‘I should’ve brought a candle,’ she whispered.

  But they could make out a shadowy Robbie, curled on his right side facing them, one hand under his plump cheek and fast asleep.

  Norm bent down. ‘Hello, son . . . Oh, look at him, Em – oh God, he’s lovely . . . I’d best not wake him, but . . .’ He stopped. Em could see that he was moved and she burned with pride that she had carried Robbie and brought him to life and looked after him this far, so that her husband could come home and find him safe and beautiful and asleep.

  ‘He is a lovely boy,’ she murmured. ‘You’ll see soon enough.’

  ‘Oh, Em.’ Norm turned to her and took her in his arms, clutching her close. ‘I can hardly believe I’m here. I’ve wanted you that bad.’

  His lips brushed her cheek, searched for her lips, and now she remembered him properly, the feel of him. She gave a little sigh of desire. Home. Norm was home. Brimful of desire, but knowing they mustn’t let things go further – not yet – they hugged each other close.

  ‘Home with my family,’ he said. And suddenly he was the one sobbing in her arms.

  Twenty-Eight

  Everyone was keen to listen to Norm as they ate, and Cynthia made cups of tea and they chatted late into the evening. Joyce came home and said in her jovial way, ‘Oh, so you’re back, are you?’ and then grinned, showing her big teeth, and gave Norm a kiss. Em saw the admiring looks that Joyce gave Norm – Joyce who had always been the first to tease about boring Norm and his ears. Yes, Em thought proudly – Norm had changed. He was different from Sid, who had married and been in a factory all through the war.

  They listened to some of Norm’s tales about Italy and all the while, even when they were eating, Norm kept one hand on Em’s knee under the table. He kept looking at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was there. After they’d all had cups of weak tea, and washed up and sat for a bit, Cynthia got up, saying, ‘Well – we’d better leave you to it’, and after the goodnights were said, Em and Norm were able to be alone at last, with the sounds of the others getting ready for bed upstairs, the noises gradually quietening.

  ‘Come ’ere,’ Norm said, sitting in the one armchair by the unlit fire. He patted his lap. ‘Come and sit with me, love.’

  Gladly Em went and sank onto his lap, leaning against him while he held her tight. Norm nuzzled against her. She could tell how badly he wanted her, but they needed a few minutes first to talk and be close.

  ‘Getting your letters – that was what kept me going,’ he told her. ‘Meant the world to me, that did.’

  Em laughed happily. ‘Me, too. Least I knew you were still alive.’

  He looked up anxiously into her face. ‘You’ve been all right, love, haven’t you? You tell me – I’ve been doing all the talking f
or the two of us.’

  ‘I’ve been all right,’ Em said. She felt tired suddenly, thinking of it. There had been so many days, so many tiny details that Norm had missed. She couldn’t possibly tell him all of them. In that moment she felt very far away from him, as if they could never catch up. ‘Robbie’s been a good boy. And we’ve seen your mom and dad every week, of course. And I’ve had my little job . . .’ She rested her head against him, breathing him in, but his demob suit smelled alien to her. ‘Sometimes I just thought it would go on for ever. That we’d never see you again, and Robbie wouldn’t have a father.’

  ‘Oh, love . . .’ He cuddled her. ‘Well, it hasn’t turned out like that, has it? I’m here now, and we’ve got it all in front of us. ‘You done a marvellous job, girl – he looks a fine little lad.’

  ‘He is.’ She smiled. ‘I can’t wait for you to see him properly.’

  After a time Norm said, ‘Where’re we going to sleep? In with littl’un?’

  ‘We’ll have to,’ Em said. ‘Joyce and Violet are in Sid’s old room now.’

  ‘Or we could just stay down here’ – Norm was stroking her arm, seductively – ‘make us a bed up on the hearth here . . .’

  There was a rug by the fire. ‘Tell you what,’ Em said. ‘I could put a match to it. There’s a few bits of kindling left and a bit of slack. It won’t last long, but it’d be cosy. And I’ll get the spare blanket from up in our room.’ She crept up and fetched the old rug and a pillow. The boards creaked, but the rest of the family were sleeping soundly. When she went down, Norm was kneeling, skilfully coaxing the fire into light. She watched him for a second, the light flickering on his face. My husband, she thought. That’s my husband. The fire was taking, licking round the knots of newspaper.

  ‘Shall I make us another cup of tea?’ she asked, knowing that although she longed for what was to come, she felt shy again, not sure what to say or do. It was a way of putting it off.