Soldier's Daughter, The

by Goodwin, Rosie

  Mrs Brindley’s mouth watered at the thought of it and she grinned. In actual fact, she knew Charlie very well. They had been childhood sweethearts and whenever they bumped into each other she got the feeling that he still had a bit of a soft spot for her. Bless him, he had lost his wife, Maggie, only the year before and had taken her loss badly.

  ‘There ain’t no flies on you, are there, love?’ she said approvingly. ‘Yer mam should be proud o’ you. I know I would be if you were my daughter. An’ fer my contribution I shall be supplyin’ the Christmas puddin’. I made it a few weeks ago an’ it’s got a sixpence and a threepenny bit in it.’

  Martha Brindley’s heart ached for this girl who seemed to be keeping the family going in her father’s absence. Lois had gone completely to pieces again without James around. Just that very afternoon, she had watched Lois coming home after collecting Alfie from school and she could have sworn the woman had a sway on. But then she had told herself she must be mistaken. You’d have to be in a pretty bad way to drink during the day, surely? Although she’d had her suspicions for a while now that Lois might be hitting the bottle. There was no sign of her at present. Briony had informed her when asked that her mum had gone upstairs to have a lie-down because she had a headache, and now the poor kid was up to her neck in ironing the kids’ clothes. It was all wrong to Mrs Brindley’s mind, but then she knew better than to put her two penn’orth in.

  Could she have known it, Briony too was concerned about her mother’s drinking. Lois had taken to splashing a bit of whisky in her tea from very early in the day, and usually by eight o’clock at night she would be snoring in the chair whilst Briony got the children to bed. The girl had found bottles of spirits hidden all over the place, and each time she did she would discreetly tip them away down the sink and dispose of the bottle in the tin dustbin, but Lois never commented on the fact.

  Briony had taken to reading the newspapers religiously and listening to the wireless whenever she could, which was something she had never done before. She had been terrified to read of the new magnetic mines that were taking their toll in the North Sea. The Admiralty had reported that submarines were finding it difficult to surface to mount attacks on the enemy, and several British ships had been lost as the sea war escalated. Briony wondered how long it would be before the fighting spilled over onto the land, and trembled inside at the thought of it.

  If anything, the weather deteriorated further in the build-up to Christmas and the wireless reported that it was the coldest winter since 1888. Even so, the atmosphere was joyful on Christmas morning as the children excitedly opened their presents. They were especially thrilled with the gifts that their father had left for them. There was a skipping rope with wooden handles for Sarah and a small wind-up train engine for Alfie, which had him cooing with delight. For Lois he had left a bottle of Evening in Paris perfume and a bright red lipstick with matching nail varnish, and for Briony a lovely blue scarf with matching gloves that would be very welcome on her cold journeys into work. He had even remembered Mrs Brindley, and when she opened the large tub of Pond’s cold cream her eyes welled with tears.

  ‘Why, God bless ’im. You’ve got a good ’un there,’ she told Lois, who nodded tearfully in agreement, missing him more than words could say. Even so, she made an extra effort to help Briony with the dinner and tried her best to make the day special for the children. She even did the drying-up when the meal was over, although she refused to wash up because of her manicure, much to Mrs Brindley’s disgust.

  On New Year’s Eve the neighbours gathered together in each other’s houses to welcome the New Year in, painfully aware that the women now far outnumbered the men, who were away fighting for their country.

  Briony was grateful for an excuse to leave early, saying that the children were tired and needed to go to bed, because by eight o’clock it was more than obvious to everyone that Lois was drunk. Her eyes were unnaturally bright and there were two high spots of colour on her cheeks. On top of that she appeared to be having trouble walking a straight line from one house to another. In each home they visited, she accepted whatever drink was on offer.

  ‘Right Mum, shall we be off then?’ Briony suggested tactfully in the Douglases’ home. ‘The children are tired and ready for bed.’

  ‘You get them home for me, there’sh a good girl,’ Lois slurred, waving her hand distractedly as she took another gulp of the strong ale that old Mr Douglas had brewed himself. It was potent stuff and Briony was mortified to see her mother getting more sozzled by the minute.

  Seeing Briony’s distress, the kindly neighbour chimed in tactfully, ‘I reckon young Briony is right, duck. Little Sarah is dead on her feet. An’ look at your Alfie – he’s yawnin’ his head off, bless ’im. Come on, gel. I’ll carry him an’ you can show me what room yer want him in, eh? I reckon he’ll be fast asleep afore we even get him home.’

  Seeing no way to refuse, Lois rose reluctantly as Briony flashed him a grateful smile, and soon they were heading for home with Alfie tucked up nice and cosy in Mr Douglas’s warm coat and Sarah leaning heavily into her side.

  ‘Thanks, Mr Douglas,’ Briony said when they reached their front door.

  ‘No trouble at all,’ he smiled, passing Alfie into her arms as Lois staggered through the door ahead of them. ‘Happy New Year to you.’ And Mr Douglas disappeared off into the foggy night whilst Briony carried Alfie inside, wondering what the New Year had in store for them all.

  Chapter Six

  In January 1940, temperatures dropped well below zero. To even step outside was like venturing onto a skating rink on the icy pavements, and people were further depressed when food rationing came into force. Everyone was issued with a ration book and they had to register at their local grocer, baker and butcher and queue to get their allowances, which were pitifully small. Even then, many found that the food had run out before they got their turn and tempers became frayed.

  ‘They ain’t allowin’ us enough to keep a bird alive,’ Mrs Brindley complained bitterly. She had always prided herself on keeping a good table and was struggling to eke out her allowances. ‘God alone knows what my Clal would say if he was at home. I reckon there won’t be a blade o’ grass to be seen when the weather picks up. Everyone will be growin’ veg in their gardens, but there’s only so much yer can do wi’ vegetables an’ salad stuff. We’ll all turn into a load o’ bloody rabbits at this rate. An’ the sugar ration is laughable! Why, my Clal likes at least three good spoonfuls o’ sugar in his tea. The bit they’re allowin’ each person wouldn’t last him more’n a day! An’ then there’s the bread, o’ course – huh! It tastes more like sawdust now – an’ whoever heard o’ grey bread?’

  Whilst Briony sympathised, she couldn’t help but be amused at her kindly neighbour’s outburst.

  ‘Well, there isn’t a lot we can do about it,’ she pointed out sensibly. ‘We’re all in the same boat and we’ve just got to get on with it.’

  ‘Hmph!’ Mrs Brindley pulled her cardigan closer about her and stuck her feet out towards the fire. ‘I thought I’d catch the train into Coventry the other day and see if there was any more food goin’ over there,’ she went on, ‘an’ you’ll never believe what they’re doin’ now. Why, they’re only coverin’ up all the station signs, so if yer don’t know where yer goin’ yer wouldn’t know where to get off.’

  ‘Things are getting a bit grim,’ Briony acknowledged, hoping to change the subject, but Mrs Brindley wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot.

  ‘I thought I’d get hold o’ some wool to knit my Clal a nice new cardi fer when he comes home, but it’s as rare as hen’s teeth now so I’ve ended up unpickin’ one of his old ones to reknit it. Things are bad when you’re forced to do that, ain’t they? I’ve taken to listenin’ to The Kitchen Front on the wireless each mornin’ an’ all after the eight o’clock news, but all the recipes they’re givin’ out are about different ways to cook vegetables. I’m tellin’ yer, I shall turn into a bloody turnip or a carrot at t
his rate.’

  Briony stifled a giggle as she listened to the woman rant on, but deep down she knew that they didn’t really have a lot to be happy about.

  The newspapers weren’t giving them much to smile about either. Early in January, it was reported that two million young men in London between the ages of nineteen and twenty-seven had received their call-up papers, and things looked grim when the Germans gained ground in a fierce onslaught along a 120-mile front north of Paris.

  ‘It’ll be us they come after next, you just mark my words,’ Mrs Brindley said with conviction, and a ripple of pure terror coursed up Briony’s spine.

  When it was further reported on 9 January that 152 people had lost their lives when the Union Castle liner was sunk by a mine off the south-east coast, the public began to realise that the threat of invasion by Hitler’s army was drawing closer. The country now lived in fear.

  Things were no better at work either; Woolworths was operating on a skeleton staff. Now that so many men had been called up, women were taking their jobs and many of them had left the store in order to work in munitions factories.

  ‘It’s hardly worth turnin’ in to work,’ Ruth told Briony one evening on their way home. ‘There’s nothin’ worth sellin’ anyway, an’ I just wonder how much longer the place will stay open for. Yer can’t even get a decent pair o’ stockin’s any more, they’re like gold dust.’ She looked down at her legs and the unbecoming lisle stockings, the only ones that were available, and Briony knew that she was right and could only nod in agreement. Since her father had returned to his unit her spirits were low and it felt as if all she ever did was work. She was missing Ernie too and this made her feel guilty because she knew how much Ruth cared for him. Life seemed to be very complicated at present and sometimes she wished she could just hide her head under the covers and stay in bed all day. But of course that wasn’t possible. What would happen to her mum and the children if she gave in to her depression? Lois wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was drinking heavily any more, and most evenings by the time Briony got home she would be in a stupor, leaving the children to fend for themselves. The girl doubted that tonight would be any different and she was proved right when she entered the kitchen to find a state of pandemonium.

  The children were screeching excitedly about something whilst their mother dozed in the chair at the side of the fire.

  ‘So what’s all the excitement about then?’ Briony asked as she took her coat off.

  ‘We found this on our way home from school,’ Alfie told her as he held up a tiny, furry body – and Briony’s heart sank. It was a ginger kitten, very sweet admittedly, but the last thing she needed to take on at present.

  ‘Oh, and what does Mum think about it?’

  Alfie shrugged as Sarah hopped happily from foot to foot. ‘Don’t know. We asked her if we could keep him when we got in from school but she was asleep and she ain’t woken up yet.’

  ‘What? You mean you walked home from school all by yourselves?’ Briony was desperately trying to keep the shock from her voice but failing dismally.

  Alfie’s face fell as he clutched the kitten to him. ‘Yes, we did,’ he muttered. ‘Mum wasn’t there to meet me so I waited by the gate for Sarah and walked home with her.’

  ‘I see.’ Briony forced a smile. The fire had almost burned out and she knew that she would have to see to it straight away else valuable time would be wasted having to relight it. As she had expected, the coal scuttle was empty, so after glaring at her mother’s comatose figure she snatched it up and marched back out to the coal-house, telling Alfie, ‘I need to see to the fire and get the dinner on the go then we’ll talk about the kitten, all right?’

  He nodded and her heart lurched as she saw the tears brimming in his eyes. She was filling the scuttle when Mrs Brindley’s back door across the yard opened and she hissed, ‘Is everythin’ all right, luvvie?’

  ‘Not really,’ Briony answered, throwing some more coal into the bucket.

  ‘Well, I could do wi’ havin’ a little word on the quiet with yer, pet,’ Mrs Brindley said timidly. ‘Would yer just step inside fer a minute?’

  Sighing, Briony crossed the yard and walked into Mrs Brindley’s kitchen, wondering what was so important that the woman had to speak to her straight away.

  ‘The thing is . . .’ Mrs Brindley looked decidedly uncomfortable. ‘There ain’t no easy way to say this but I’d rather yer heard it from me than somebody else so I’ll just come out with it. It appears that yer mam got the sack from her job this morning.’

  ‘But why?’ Briony gasped.

  ‘Well, from what I could make of what the women outside the shop were gossipin’ about, it seems she turned into work smellin’ o’ drink an’ wobblin’ about all over the place. Apparently it weren’t the first time, so Mr Finn told her he’d not be needin’ her any more . . . I’m so sorry, love.’

  ‘It’s not your fault and I appreciate you telling me,’ Briony said dully. ‘To be honest I’ve been expecting something like this.’

  Mrs Brindley patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘If there’s anythin’ I can do, yer only have to ask.’ She felt desperately sorry for the girl and more than a little angry at her mother. From where she was standing it seemed that just because Briony was the firstborn, she had to take the weight of the family on her shoulders.

  ‘I’d better get back,’ Briony said. ‘I’ve got the children’s dinners to see to. Goodnight, Mrs Brindley.’

  ‘Night, luvvie.’ Mrs Brindley watched Briony cross the yard again and lift the heavy scuttle before closing her back door with a heavy sigh.

  The meal, which was a hastily put-together concoction of mashed potatoes and corned beef, was a solemn affair and when it was over Alfie asked tentatively, ‘So can we keep the kitten then, Briony?’

  ‘I suppose we shall have to wait and see what Mum has to say about it. It’s not really up to me, and you know Mum isn’t really that keen on pets,’ she answered. Lois had snored her way through the entire meal and Briony had left her dinner in the oven to keep warm. But then, seeing the children’s crestfallen faces, she looked at the kitten, which was fast asleep in front of the fire, and relented. It was a lovely little thing and she supposed it wouldn’t be too much trouble. ‘Leave it with me and I’ll see if I can’t talk her round.’

  ‘Oh thanks, Briony, you’re the best sister in the whole world.’ Alfie covered the space between them in two leaps and wrapped his arms about her neck, closely followed by his sister.

  Briony chuckled. ‘I’m very pleased you think so, but come on . . . it’s time for bed now and if the kitten is staying I shall have to feed him and find him a box for him to sleep in while you two get undressed and have a wash. Oh, and you’d better start thinking of a name for him as well if he’s going to be living here. We can’t just call him “Cat”, can we?’

  Highly delighted, the children scooted away to do as they were told. Their bedrooms were bitterly cold but Briony had made them both a hot-water bottle.

  ‘Tommy at school reckons it might snow this week,’ Alfie informed her as she tucked the blankets up to his chin and bent to kiss him. He slept in the tiny boxroom at the back of the house.

  ‘I think your pal Tommy could be right,’ Briony shivered. ‘It’s certainly cold enough and if it does, I’ll have to get your sledge out of the shed for you.’

  She then went to tuck Sarah in to the double bed that they shared. ‘You won’t forget to feed the kitten, will you?’ the little girl asked sleepily as Briony kissed her goodnight.

  ‘I certainly won’t,’ Briony promised, stepping out onto the landing. It was then that her shoulders sagged. They would miss the small wage that Lois had earned, and now it seemed they had a cat to care for too – but then, she asked herself, how much can one little kitten cost to feed?

  Her mother was stirring when Briony got back downstairs and the girl glared at her as she began to clear the pots from the table. There was all the washing-
up to do before she even thought of getting the children’s clothes ready for school the next day.

  ‘What time is it?’ Lois asked groggily as she heaved herself up in the chair.

  ‘It’s evening,’ Briony answered shortly as she headed for the sink with her hands full of dirty dishes. ‘And if you want your dinner it’s in the oven, although it’ll probably be dried up by now.’

  Lois stared at her daughter uncertainly. She had never heard Briony use that tone of voice to her before, but then as the events of the day slowly came back to her, she said guiltily, ‘I’m afraid Mr Finn told me today that he wouldn’t be needing me any more.’

  ‘I know that,’ Briony snapped. ‘And I know why too.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lois looked so forlorn that Briony felt herself softening, but she wasn’t done with her yet.

  ‘You didn’t meet the children from school either,’ she accused. ‘How would you have felt if anything had happened to either of them, Mum? Dad would go mad if he knew that they were having to make their own way home. Alfie is just five years old!’

  To Briony’s horror her mother promptly burst into tears. ‘I know he would. Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m just a poor apology for a mother, aren’t I? But I just can’t seem to function properly without your dad.’

  ‘We all miss him, Mum,’ Briony said soberly. ‘But we have to try and keep on and make him proud of us. And the thing is . . . Well, I’m worried about your drinking. It seems to be getting out of hand.’

  Lois knew that she was right. Her head was thumping and her mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage. However, desperate to make amends, she said, ‘Leave that washing-up to me. If I’m going to be at home all day from now on, it’s time I did my share of the work. You go and put your feet up, love. You’ve been rushing about all day.’ It was then that her eyes fell on the kitten still curled up fast asleep on the hearthrug and she gasped in horror as her hand flew to her throat. ‘What is that creature doing in here?’