Forget-Me-Not Child

by Anne Bennett

  ‘That sounds ominous.’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ Barry said. ‘It’s just that I can’t see a way round it. You know what they say about two heads being better than one?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well without putting too fine a point on it, Connie is getting too much for Mammy.’

  ‘Has she said so?’

  ‘’Course not,’ Barry said. ‘Can you see Mammy admitting to that, especially when she knows how important it is?’

  ‘Then I don’t see what I am to do.’

  ‘There aren’t any part-time positions?’

  Angela shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘All munitions jobs I have heard of are full-time. Some work shifts, I’ve heard. Any other than war work isn’t so well paid and while the war lasts we do need the money. When the war is over and you are home again everything will be as it was before, but this is how it must be for now.’

  No more was said about it though Angela did worry because she knew Mary was no spring chicken and as Connie grew she became more and more active and hard for Mary to keep an eye on.

  When Angela arrived home she could see the lines of strain on Mary’s face which was grey with fatigue and Angela’s conscience smote her for not even noticing that until it was pointed out to her. Mary though was her usual self and greeted them warmly and bade them sit up to the table for she had a delicious meal ready for them.

  Angela slept badly that night. She was tired and they had spent a lovely evening together after both Barry and Angela put Connie to bed. And when they went to bed themselves a little while later, though Barry had loved her so tenderly, sleep still evaded her. She had been bothered at what Barry had said about his mother and annoyed that she hadn’t spotted it herself and yet, if she had noticed, what could she have done? What could she do now?

  However, she knew the sleeplessness was also caused by the thought that on Monday morning her husband would march off to war and she might never see him again. She couldn’t stand it! It was too much to ask! The thought of losing Barry tore at her heart, and yet she knew she would have to stand it. He wouldn’t be the only beloved husband and father at the Front and she knew she would have to cope as every other woman had to. But when he went away she knew one part of her heart would die.

  Tired though Angela was, she was up early the following morning, not wishing to waste one minute of the short time they had left. After breakfast she made up a picnic for Barry and Connie and herself, and said Mary should have a day on her own to rest, and Barry said that they would bring in fish and chips for dinner and so she had nothing to worry herself about. His mother protested and said it was nonsense spending their money that way. But they both expected her to react like that so they paid no heed.

  The morning was mild though a slight breeze was riffling through the trees as they made for Cannon Hill Park with Connie in the pram for it was a long trek for little legs. The day was a magical one and though poignantly sad for the adults, Connie felt no constraint and when she was tired out from running around the grass with her daddy he took her to the playground. Barry helped his small daughter climb the steps of the high slide and come down in a whoosh, or pushed her as high as high on the swings or spun her so fast on the roundabout she was dizzy when she came off.

  They had their picnic on a grassy incline overlooking the lake; Angela spread the blanket while Barry got out the sandwiches and as Angela sat she thought everywhere looked fresh and clean, the grass verdant green and the daffodils bright yellow in the borders. The sky was Wedgewood blue and the wind sent white fluffy clouds scudding across it and rippled the water, the low sun glinting on the waves. It was so beautiful, so peaceful and it was hard to believe that just across another small stretch of water, men were holed up in trenches shooting at one another. Barry was thinking the same thing and he said, ‘Hard to believe we’re at war isn’t it?’

  Angela nodded and said, ‘It is indeed.’

  ‘This is what we’re fighting for really, so that we keep England like this, a green and pleasant land.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Some things are worth fighting for.’

  Angela swallowed hard before saying, ‘I know that too. I just wish that it wasn’t you doing the fighting. But as it is, I wish we could stop time now here, just for a wee while.’

  ‘I wish that too,’ Barry said urgently. ‘But as that won’t happen at least I will take another memory to sustain me when I am away.’

  Angela sighed and lay back on the grass and closed her eyes.

  ‘Connie and I are going to feed the crusts to the ducks,’ Barry said. His words jerked Angela from her little doze and she said, ‘Hold on to her then.’

  She sat up and watched the two walk down to the water hand in hand, with their bag of crusts, and her heart constricted with love for them both.

  Ducks fed, Connie seemed sleepy and so Angela lay her down in the pram and as they walked around the park, she dozed and Angela gave a sigh. It could have been contentment, but Monday morning was looming ever closer. ‘Where are we going tomorrow?’ she asked Barry and went on, ‘Sutton Park might be nice now the weather is a wee bit warmer.’

  Barry shook his head. ‘Not any more,’ he said. ‘Not with the Army commandeering so much of it. I heard tell they were building a prisoner-of-war camp there too. Anyway I did most of my training there, so I saw plenty of it. The next time I want to go there is in peacetime, when I am home again for good.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Angela said.

  ‘There’s something else as well,’ Barry said. ‘I know we have been trying to take the burden off Mammy by taking Connie out and about, not that that has been in any way a chore, but she might feel a bit neglected if we take off for the whole day on my last day home.’

  Angela could see that, for trying to spend most of his precious leave with his wife and daughter meant that he hadn’t spent a great deal of time with his mother. ‘We haven’t worked up any sort of solution to Connie’s care while I work,’ Angela said.

  ‘No,’ Barry agreed. ‘I suppose we’ll have to leave things as they are for the time being.’

  ‘Well let’s not spend any more time worrying about a problem we can see no way of fixing,’ Barry said. ‘I’m looking forward to feeding the inner man at the moment, so shall we head home via the chip shop?’

  ‘Oh I should say so,’ Angela said with a smile as she turned the pram around.

  Next morning before Mass Angela saw Maggie in the porch. ‘No point asking how you are,’ Maggie said to Angela. ‘You’re like a cat that’s got the cream.’

  ‘Ooh it’s been lovely,’ Angela said. ‘But it’s Barry’s last day and tomorrow he will be gone and I will be back at work and worrying about Mary.’

  ‘What about Mary?’

  ‘Barry thought she looked tired. I felt bad I hadn’t noticed it myself because when I really studied her myself, he was right. It’s no good asking her because she always claims she’s fine, but really she’s not. Barry thinks she might be finding Connie a bit of a handful.’

  ‘Well she is a bundle of energy that child,’ Maggie said with a chuckle. ‘My own mother said just the other day that Mary was getting very tired looking. Why don’t you put Connie in the nursery?’

  ‘What nursery?’ Angela asked.

  ‘The one set up for mothers engaged in war work,’ Maggie explained. ‘Think there’s one on Bristol Street.’

  Angela would have asked more but the strains of the organ were heard and she had to join her husband and child for Mass was about to start, so it was after Mass she learned more. The nursery was free to mothers who were engaged in war work and they took babies from six months. ‘How d’you know so much about it?’ she said.

  ‘From Sonia,’ Maggie said. ‘I was working with her when you were learning to drive in the yard.’

  ‘Isn’t she a widow?’

  ‘Yeah and left with two nippers, three and just eighteen months,’ Maggie said. ‘She
told me straight she couldn’t feed and clothe them adequately if she didn’t have the nursery and the kids love it. Sonia said they have three meals a day too.’

  Barry joined them then with Connie in his arms and Angela and Maggie filled him in about the nursery and he was impressed. ‘Sounds just the job,’ he said and turning to his daughter he asked, ‘Would you like to go to nursery, Connie?’

  Connie didn’t answer her Daddy but her eyes were perplexed for she didn’t know the word.

  ‘Nursery is a place where you will have lots of toys and children to play with.’

  Connie’s face was a beam of happiness. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Me go.’

  ‘Well she’s easily persuaded,’ Barry said.

  ‘Barry, she is not yet two years old,’ Angela said. ‘Your mother will be a different kettle of fish altogether.’

  And Mary wasn’t at all keen on the idea. They didn’t attempt to tell her anything until she had eaten a good Sunday roast dinner when she might be feeling a little more compliant. Angela put Connie to bed for a rest so that Mary could have their undivided attention but the strategy didn’t work all that well for they had barely begun to explain when Mary snapped, ‘I am not in my dotage totally you know.’

  ‘We know you’re not,’ Angela said soothingly, ‘and no one is suggesting you are, and it isn’t as if you are not doing a good job, because you are. But I don’t want you to make yourself ill with exhaustion.’

  ‘Well I won’t, will I, looking after one small granddaughter?’

  ‘Mammy they’re very tiring at this age,’ Barry put in.

  ‘D’you think I don’t know this when I’ve had a fine big family of my own?’

  ‘Mammy things were different then,’ Barry said.

  ‘All I ask is that you let her try it?’ Angela said. ‘If she is unhappy she needn’t stay.’

  ‘And what will I do all day when she is away at this nursery place?’ Mary demanded.

  ‘You could always rest more, take it easy you know?’ Barry said.

  ‘I’ll have rest enough in my box,’ Mary growled and then looked at Angela accusingly. ‘You said you needed me, that you couldn’t do this job without me.’

  ‘Mammy I swear to you I had never heard of this nursery until today,’ Angela said. ‘But I will probably still need you because it’s unlikely they will open to cover the hours I work or Saturday mornings. I will have to find that out, but I think I will still need you to take her there in the morning and fetch her home in the evening.’

  ‘And how will you be able to find anything out about this nursery when you are working all day every day?’

  ‘I’ll take the day off.’

  Barry gasped. ‘I thought you couldn’t have days off just like that?’

  ‘You can’t,’ Angela said. ‘And I’ll likely get into trouble for it, but I don’t care. What’s the alternative anyway?’

  Barry had so wanted Angela to come and see him off at the station, but knowing the situation he hadn’t asked. And now, because she had to check out the nursery, she would be able to see him off properly first.

  But then Angela said, ‘Even before this business with the nursery, I had a mind to defy Mr Potter. I think it is unreasonable to expect us to just carry on as if something momentous isn’t happening in our own lives. And I can think of nothing that will change my life more than when my husband steps on that train on his way to fight in a war. I will try hard to hold the tears back, but I will be upset and sometimes that makes me all jittery inside, and for the job I do you need a steady hand, and I doubt my mind will be on the job either and it would be easy make a mistake, and a mistake in a munitions factory can be fatal. I think it will be far better and safer for me to stay away from the place the day you leave.’

  ‘I think you do right,’ Mary said. ‘It shows a lack of compassion in your employers to not understand that.’

  Barry said nothing, too choked by Angela’s words, but when his arms went around her and his lips met hers words weren’t necessary.

  Connie was shouting and Barry went to fetch her and as he came down, he said to Angela, ‘Let’s see if we can find this nursery and not have you searching for it tomorrow and take Connie down to the canal later to see the barges.’

  Angela was agreeable to this and they set off with Connie in her preferred place on her father’s shoulders.

  The nursery, called The Acorns, was the other side of Bristol Street over Pershore Road which was where Angela always turned down the other way on her way to Calthorpe Park, which was why she hadn’t noticed it, especially as Maggie intimated that it was fairly new. It was a long low building and it had quite a large playground at the front and the windows Angela could see were decorated in some way. ‘This is your nursery, Connie,’ Barry said. ‘What do you think?’

  Connie gazed at it and then looked at her father who had told her about the children and toys at the nursery, but her tongue couldn’t quite master the word children. ‘Toys,’ she said.

  Angela knew what her daughter was getting at and she said with a smile, ‘All the toys are inside.’

  ‘That’s because it’s closed,’ said Barry. ‘Locked see,’ he went on, lifting Connie and showing her the lock fastening the large metal gates together. ‘When Mammy brings you tomorrow, it will be open and you can see it for yourself. Now we’re off to look at the canal.’

  Connie was quite interested in the water though it was slightly brown and oil-slicked and had a pungent smell, but she was fascinated by the boats that her Daddy called barges. They were pretty and painted on the sides and moored to the rings on the towpath.

  ‘Elephants and castles,’ Barry said when Connie pointed out the painted barges. ‘They always paint elephants and castles and don’t ask me why because no one seems to know.’

  ‘They are pretty though,’ Angela said. ‘Imagine having our house painted like that, Connie, because those barges are like people’s floating houses where they live.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ Barry said. ‘A few elephants and castles or any other damned design might cheer our back-to-backs a treat.’

  Angela laughed. ‘Barry, I don’t think there is anything anyone could do to make those houses a bit cheerier. That would be a lost cause altogether.’

  They walked along the towpath with Angela holding tight to Connie’s hand and all was quiet and still. ‘Because it’s Sunday,’ Barry said in a low voice. ‘They’re all resting up. I was hoping to see a barge going through the locks, but we’re out of luck today. Shall we make our way home and give Connie a turn in the playground in Calthorpe Park on the way.’

  Angela nodded. ‘Well we are nearly at the entrance to it.’

  However when they left the park there was a hurdy-gurdy man at the entrance with his barrel organ and monkey. He had a weather-beaten face with two twinkling black eyes and he had on a well-worn dark-red jacket and black corduroy trousers tucked into well-cobbled boots. Angela was delighted to see the monkey was dressed too and more flamboyantly in black and white striped trousers, a red shirt and a black waistcoat with a felt hat on his head.

  Connie’s eyes opened wider still when she spied the monkey, and then the barrel organ started to play and the monkey danced up and down on top of it as Connie clapped her hands in excitement. The music brought a fair crowd. Other children playing in the street left their games and others came out of their houses and some adults too, all clustered around the hurdy-gurdy man listening, tapping their feet to the music, some humming along and some clapping the beat and everyone laughed at the antics of the lively monkey.

  The music drew to a close and there was a ripple of applause and then further laughter as the monkey took off his hat and proffered it to collect donations. Many then turned regretfully away, but Barry dropped three pennies into the hat before they too left the hurdy-gurdy man and turned for home.

  Seeing the hurdy-gurdy man was the high spot in Connie’s life and when they arrived home, she tried with her limited vocabular
y to explain to her grandmother, her obvious delight keeping them all entertained especially when she tried to copy the dances the monkey did.

  Much later and with Connie in bed, closely followed by Mary, Angela was putting the last few bits in Barry’s kitbag when she said, ‘D’you think you’ll see much of Stan when you’re over there?’

  She had so hoped this was the case because Stan was a Sergeant now and so might be more protected than the ordinary privates, and with Stan a friend of the whole family and with him not wanting Barry to go in the first place, maybe he could see a way of keeping him safer.

  However, Barry dashed those hopes straight away. ‘The Western Front goes for miles and miles,’ he said. ‘Involving thousands of soldiers. Unless we had joined together into the same Pals Regiment I think the chance of finding an individual soldier a very slim one.’

  ‘But he’s a Sergeant now.’

  ‘And so are countless others,’ Barry said. ‘And my time is not my own don’t forget. I doubt I can wander around on my own asking questions, which is not a very safe thing to do in wartime anyway, and it would be frowned on for a private to be too friendly with a superior. Whatever you were in civvy street has to be left in civvy street. My fellow soldiers would probably see it as toadying up in the hope of getting special privileges. And it wouldn’t do Stan any good either, the others might easily think he was the other way, you know?’ Barry finished with a wink and a jerk of his head.

  ‘No I don’t know,’ Angela said, completely perplexed. ‘What are you on about? Other way from what?’

  Barry sighed, ‘If an older soldier took too much interest in a young private, they might think he was the sort of man who likes men the same way that most men like women.’

  Angela was totally shocked for she hadn’t known there were any men like that and at the thought of it she felt the heat flood her face and knew her cheeks would be crimson with embarrassment as she said, ‘Oh surely not?’