A Wartime Friend

by Lizzie Lane

  Ray was adamant, determined that just for once his wife would do as he said. Meg was just as adamant that she would get her own way, beguiling her husband just as she had when they first met. She swung her legs out of bed and stood there naked in the middle of the room.

  ‘We’ve been quite safe under the stairs so far. It’s small but not as dark and damp as the shelter. We’ll be fine.’

  The moment Meg tossed her beautiful head, her hair falling like skeins of silk around her shoulders, Ray was helpless and knew beyond doubt that Meg would do as she pleased.

  ‘You have to think of Lily.’

  ‘Ray, I am thinking of Lily.’ Biting the corner of her lip, she added a statement he guessed she would make. ‘I know what you’re saying, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving my lovely home. Just look how beautiful it is.’

  Meg knew how to plead with her husband – with her eyes, her smile and her whole slender, sensuous body. She spun round in the middle of the room, arms spread like a twirling ballerina and just as graceful.

  Her husband sighed and glanced at his watch. ‘What time do we have to collect Lily. I’m desperate to see her.’

  Meg smiled. ‘I thought you would be. You can collect her. I’ll give you the address. I’ll tidy up while you’re gone.’

  ‘Tidy up?’ said Ray, not believing what he was hearing. The house was immaculate.

  ‘Of course. I have to unpack your kitbag. It’s certainly not staying where it is at the moment! Besides, I take it you’ve brought some washing home. And I do have to remake the bed,’ she added with a beguiling smile.

  There was a lot of promise in that smile. His response was exactly as she’d hoped.

  ‘We’ll only mess it up again,’ he said, matching her smile with one of his own.

  ‘Better get going then.’

  With a sigh of resignation, he swung his muscular frame from the bed. He hadn’t mentioned the dog. He would leave that until later.

  Falling in love with Meg had seemed like a dream. Love at first sight, though back then it had been all starry-eyed and purely physical. Someone had once said to him that if you want to know how a wife will turn out, look at her mother. He had: her hair never out of place, always beautifully dressed. He hadn’t thought to look beyond that, to see that the perfect house she lived in ruled her life.

  A nagging thought came to him. Was he fostering Lily for purely selfish reasons, hoping her presence would occupy Meg’s time so she wouldn’t ask too many questions? Facing the fact that she might no longer be the love of his life was difficult. He was not an irresponsible man. It was just that at times he felt trapped and even Meg’s voluptuous body was not enough to scatter his wandering thoughts.

  Pushing his gloomy musings aside, he marched off to collect the little girl he hoped would save his marriage, thinking how peaceful everything seemed. Home was such a contrast to the airbase. If it wasn’t for the ‘blimp’ bobbing around above the roofs of the houses, there would be no sign there was a war on.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The house in Forest Avenue where the children’s party was being held was a mirror image of the house he shared with Meg and Lily: semi-detached with bay windows, and an arched aspect enclosing a small porch in front of a green-and-white striped door with an oval glass panel at the top of yellow and red glass depicting a sunrise. The garden was nowhere near as pristine; carrots and onions growing in disarray among the long grass. Their front garden at Andover Avenue was neat and tidy, mainly because Meg had a man in to keep it that way.

  The sound of screeching, laughing, chattering children accompanied the woman who answered the door. She was about the same age as Meg, though plumper with pink cheeks. Wisps of fair hair fell untidily from beneath the turban she wore. Despite her disarray he thought she looked attractive, possibly because she oozed friendliness. He immediately warmed to her.

  ‘You must be Lily’s father,’ she said brightly. ‘You’re the only RAF father,’ she said before he could ask her how she knew.

  He decided that saying he was only Lily’s foster father was irrelevant.

  ‘Jennifer Nichols. Pleased to meet you. Come in.’

  The inside of the house was as untidy as it was outside. There was muddle everywhere and he doubted it was purely down to it being presently flooded with children.

  ‘Uncle Ray!’

  He’d been away a while, but the fact that Lily still recognised him made his heart surge with happiness. And she’d called him Uncle Ray. That really surprised him.

  ‘I’ve had jelly,’ she said to him with great relish. ‘And blancmange. I dropped some of it on the floor. Only a spoonful.’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he said to Jennifer, who just smiled and said Lily was not the only one. ‘I’ve got four children and they’re always dropping something for me to clear up. All in a day’s work with kids.’ Her smile was full of happiness.

  Ray thanked her for having Lily at the party.

  ‘She’s enjoyed herself and is welcome to come here any time.’

  With Lily’s hand in his, Ray walked back home along the leafy avenues of London’s suburbia, listening to his foster daughter’s chatter.

  ‘We played musical chairs and lots of other games, but my favourite was pass the parcel. We ended up with lots and lots of paper everywhere! It was only newspaper but Mrs Nichols collected it all up afterwards so she could use it for lighting the fire.’

  Ray smiled broadly. Hearing Lily’s happy chatter warmed his heart, although when it was Lily’s birthday he knew beyond doubt that the party would be strictly controlled and games would only be allowed out in the garden.

  ‘And they’ve got a dog,’ Lily suddenly exclaimed, then fell silent before saying. ‘I think I’d like a dog.’

  The words were music to Ray’s ears. By the time they got home he’d told her about Rudy, the dog he’d claimed as his own without mentioning that she’d been in company with the dog when he’d found her. He was very careful about things like that just in case she got upset and was back there in whatever horror she’d gone through. The kid was confused enough and seemed to be struggling with what he was telling her.

  ‘Is Rudy going to come home with you?’ Lily asked plaintively, her blue eyes round with interest.

  Ray managed a tight smile and just about restrained himself from asking her whether she remembered the dog, or the time before he’d found her. His instinct was leave her to remember in her own good time and at her own pace. However, he answered the question. ‘I hope so. When this war’s finally over perhaps.’ It was a big perhaps. If he ever dared mention having the dog live with them, Meg cut him off sharply.

  On reaching home, Lily ran bouncing into the room ahead of him, proceeding to spill out everything he’d told her about the dog that lived with him at the airfield. ‘Uncle Ray found him in the war and his name’s Rudy and he’s coming home to live with us when the war’s over, isn’t he, Uncle Ray?’

  Lily tilted her head back and looked up at Ray for confirmation. He was tickled pink to hear her call him Uncle Ray. Before he’d gone back to the base she’d called him Mr Malin.

  ‘Can we, Aunt Meg?’

  Meg’s look locked with his. ‘Let’s see when we get there,’ she replied.

  ‘If possible,’ he said reassuringly. The moment he saw the accusing look on Meg’s face he felt less confident. His wife did not look happy. Ray instantly regretted letting Lily do the dirty work. He felt guilty.

  ‘I know we should have talked first,’ he began.

  Meg looked sour. ‘Yes. We should have.’ She folded her arms, the stance she usually adopted – along with the accusing look she gave him when he wasn’t being open about something – when she said he was being elusive.

  ‘The war might not be over for years,’ she stated in a matter-of-fact manner.

  Lily had a determined jut to her chin. ‘So we’ll see then? Promise?’

  Ray wilted under Meg’s direct look before she turned away and to
ld Lily to wash her hands. ‘Tonight you can stay up late seeing as your Uncle Ray is home. Bed at eight. Dinner is nearly ready so upstairs with you to wash your hands.’

  Lily bounced off happily up the stairs to the bathroom.

  ‘About the dog,’ Ray began.

  Meg held up a warning hand, palm outwards. There was fire in her eyes. ‘I like my house to be neat and tidy. I do not want a dog. I have to think of Lily.’

  ‘I was thinking of Lily …’

  ‘She’s coming on fine without needing to be reunited with a mutt – a German mutt. Have you any idea how hostile people are becoming towards anything that smacks of being German?’

  She was right of course. He himself couldn’t understand it. A dog was a dog and even though Rudy had a military number tattooed in his ear, it seemed to him that the dog’s temperament just wasn’t suited to the military.

  ‘You’re right of course,’ he said, resting his hands on her waist and pulling her towards him, bending his head and nuzzling her ear. ‘Let’s drop it for now and see what happens. Yes?’

  Meg nodded but he could tell by the wary look in her eyes that she would cut him dead if he mentioned it again. Discretion being the better part of valour, he changed the subject.

  ‘She called me Uncle Ray. And you Aunt Meg. Since when did that start?’

  ‘A few weeks after you left.’

  ‘You should have told me. It’s a really big step.’

  ‘I thought I’d let it be a surprise.’

  ‘It is.’

  She stepped out of his reach, bent down and opened the oven door. Her glossy hair fell forward around her face, clinging to her cheeks as she straightened and placed the pie on the table.

  ‘You shouldn’t have said anything about the dog. Nothing at all. What if it brings back painful memories?’

  Ray went into the dining room, poured himself a large gin and took a slug. By the time he’d got back to the kitchen, Meg had picked up his cap nonchalantly tossed on the draining board, strode purposefully out into the hallway and hung it on the hallstand.

  Ray’s glass was almost empty, no more than a thimble full swilling around the bottom. The gin had given him courage, just enough to snipe at the subject again. ‘We have to face the fact that she isn’t ours and her people might be looking for her. I just thought the dog might help.’

  Meg looked trim and glamorous in a grey pleated dress with a white Peter Pan collar. The belt around her waist was cinched in tightly, emphasising the curves of her hips and her breasts. He’d like to make love to her right now, but knew that even if Lily hadn’t been in the house, it would have to wait until bedtime. As far as Meg was concerned, there was a time and a place for everything. Bed was the place for making love. Nowhere else.

  Her tone was adamant. ‘Ray, I really couldn’t manage a dog and I don’t think it’s a good idea for Lily to be reminded of whatever she went through – at least not yet. You should have spoken to me first before mentioning the dog to her.’

  ‘I wrote to you,’ snapped Ray. ‘You didn’t respond. You brushed it under the carpet.’

  ‘I didn’t think it relevant. I did not brush it under the carpet.’

  ‘No! You wouldn’t, would you! You don’t brush anything under the carpet. The floor is like everything else in this bloody house, polished to perfection without a speck of dust in sight.’

  Her cheeks flushed. ‘And what do you mean by that?’

  ‘Exactly what I said. Keeping a clean house means more to you than I do.’

  ‘That’s not true! Dogs are dirty! I’ve every right not to want extra work in my house.’

  ‘Our house! It’s our house! Correction! Our home! Or it should be!’

  Realising she’d said the wrong thing, Meg did her best to back-pedal, a frown darkening her sweet face. ‘I didn’t mean it like it sounded. All I meant was …’

  Ray glared to where his kitbag had been. Everything had been put away: dirty laundry already in the boiler, clean clothes upstairs in a bedroom drawer, shoes in the wardrobe, shaving equipment in the bathroom.

  ‘That you like everything in its place. Including me! It obviously suits you for me to be away in the air force. I’m not here to clutter things up!’

  Grabbing his cap from the hallstand, he headed for the front door. Meg ran after him.

  ‘Ray! Where are you going?’

  ‘I’m going for a pint.’

  ‘Ray!’

  Meg stopped halfway across the hallway, the house shaking as the front door slammed behind him.

  There was no way she was going to open it and watch her husband disappear down the street. That would be too embarrassing.

  Her dismay evaporated. She was right, wasn’t she? Anyway, you have to make a stand, she thought. He’s just not being fair.

  Lily’s light footfall sounded behind her. Her happy expression turned crestfallen when she saw that Ray wasn’t there. ‘Where’s Uncle Ray gone?’ she asked plaintively.

  Meg uncrossed her arms and managed a reassuring smile. ‘He had to go out for a moment. He won’t be long. Would you like to help me lay the table and get everything ready for when he gets back?’

  Lily nodded. ‘Yes. Can we have jelly?’

  ‘You’ve already had jelly.’

  ‘I know. But you and Uncle Ray didn’t. I think he might like some. How about you?’

  Meg had to smile. The fact that Lily was coming out of herself warmed her heart. She liked to think that providing her with a proper home had helped enormously. Every child should have a good home and proper routine. Ray had to understand that. A dog didn’t fit into that present routine.

  She dished up the evening meal – cottage pie with carrots and cabbage – with one eye on the clock. She hoped and prayed Ray would come home before Lily’s bedtime.

  Just as she turned off the gas tap, the sirens went off.

  ‘Oh, not again,’ she sighed. ‘Always at mealtimes. Lily, fetch your gas mask.’ Lily did as she was told before heading for the comfortable niche Meg had created under the stairs. Meg looked frantically at the front door, back to the stairs, then outside to where the unused Anderson shelter awaited them. Why didn’t Ray come? Where was he?

  ‘Auntie Meg!’

  Lily was close to panicking. ‘It’s all right, Lily. I’m here.’

  She wound her arms around the child and hugged her close. Lily reacted almost hysterically to the sound of the sirens, fear filling her eyes, her body trembling until the sound abated, to be replaced by that of explosions, though thankfully never that close. He should have understood how frightened she gets, thought Meg, her arms enfolding Lily against her bosom. If he could see how frightened she gets, he wouldn’t have gone to the pub.

  Lily held tight to her foster mother, her eyes tightly closed. ‘Not out there,’ she kept saying. ‘Not out there.’

  The shelter smelled of damp earth and was very dark. There was earth and sandbags all around, half of the shelter being below ground. On the first occasion she’d entered, half a dozen sandbags had become loose and fallen on top of her. She’d screamed and screamed. Meg had pulled the sandbags off her, but the experience had resurrected a similar trauma, a memory that she couldn’t quite face, a memory best forgotten.

  Meg eased her away, held her hand and opened the door under the stairs, all the time grumbling about Ray’s absence. ‘He should be here,’ she muttered, feeling angrier now. ‘He should be here!’ Torch already lit, Meg tugged the door open, pushed Lily in first then followed on, slamming the small door behind them.

  An hour or so later it was yanked open. Ray’s body filled the void. He swiftly took in the sight of his wife and Lily locked in each other’s arms. ‘What the hell are you doing in here? Why aren’t you in the Anderson shelter?’

  ‘Lily doesn’t like it out there. It’s dark and damp and not good for her chest. Besides, you can see how she reacts,’ she said, both hands covering Lily’s head, the little girl’s face buried against Meg’s chest
.

  At the sound of an explosion from far off, Ray squeezed in. ‘Meg, this isn’t safe. If a bomb hit the house, you wouldn’t stand a chance.’

  Meg’s voice was firm. She had to make him understand. ‘As I’ve just told you, Lily doesn’t like it out there.’

  ‘She’ll have to get used to it. It’s for her own good.’

  Meg sighed. How could she make him see?

  ‘Look, Ray. It’s just the two of us here. We have to manage as best we can. I prefer it in here and so does Lily. Isn’t that good enough for you?’

  He caught the sharpness in her voice. ‘No. It isn’t good enough. I don’t want you to get killed. I do have some idea about bombing, Meg. It’s part of my job to know.’

  Meg sighed. She didn’t want to quarrel, not when they had such a short time together.

  As the sound of explosions became more distant, Lily began to emerge from Meg’s embrace. ‘There you are, darling,’ Meg said to her in a reassuring voice. ‘They’ll sound the all-clear soon and we can all have our supper and go to bed. All’s well that ends well!’

  ‘Hey, Lily. Not much room under here. When we next have an air raid, do you think we could all go into the shelter out in the garden? There’s no room for all of us in here.’

  Lily looked at him wide-eyed. ‘No,’ she said, her voice chilly with fear. ‘No!’

  A long shrill note sounded the all-clear. Meg brushed imagined dust from Lily’s head and from her clothes. ‘What a state,’ she muttered. ‘Better wash your hands again, Lily.’

  Lily looked as if it was an odd idea seeing as she’d already washed them a short time ago, but she dutifully obeyed and trotted off upstairs. They waited until her footsteps sounded from along the landing before they continued their conversation.

  ‘Meg, you’d be more comfortable out in the shelter. And you’d be safer.’

  Meg stalked off to the kitchen to the half-cooked vegetables and the cottage pie she’d left on the table. Everything would need warming up, and although she was getting used to doing that, she did find it irritating.

  Coping was what the home front was all about. Her husband just didn’t understand how it was. As she busied herself sorting out their dinner – which was now supper – she did her best to explain how she saw things.