Welcome Home

by Margaret Dickinson

  Edie patted her back and released her and they both sat down at the table again.

  ‘Do you know much about him?’

  Ruth shook her head. ‘Only that he got killed on a bombing raid just before Irene found out she was carrying a child.’

  ‘Killed!’ For a moment, Edie was stunned. This was something she hadn’t thought of. She’d imagined meeting up with him somewhere and giving him a piece of her mind. It took her a moment to recover before she said hoarsely, ‘So – he didn’t know, then? She didn’t have a chance to tell him?’

  Ruth shook her head.

  ‘Do you think,’ Edie asked slowly, ‘it would have made any difference if he had known?’

  ‘How – how d’you mean?’

  ‘Would he have stood by her? Married her?’

  Ruth gasped. ‘But – but she’s married. I mean, your boy’s coming home, isn’t he?’

  ‘Thank God, yes, but I don’t reckon he’ll want to take on someone else’s kid. I reckon he’ll divorce her.’

  Ruth stared at her for a moment and then glanced away, mouthing a silent ‘Oh’.

  ‘So,’ Edie said grimly, ‘the little madam’s come home to see if my Frank’ll be daft enough to forgive her and take on a cuckoo in the nest, has she?’

  ‘If that’s how you see it, Edie,’ Ruth said, her tone a little stiff now. ‘But I told Irene before she left that if things didn’t work out for her and her kiddies back home, then she was welcome back here.’

  ‘Well, she’d be coming without Tommy, I can tell you that now. Tommy’ll stay with his dad – with us. You’ll not take any more of my family from me.’

  Ruth blanched and her mouth trembled. Edie could have bitten her tongue off. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said swiftly, but the damage had been done, the words had been spoken and could not be unsaid.

  Ruth waved her hand and shook her head. ‘I can understand how you must feel and, to be honest, we wouldn’t have suggested them coming back here except that we felt so guilty it happened whilst she was under our roof and – and’ – she avoided Edie’s eyes – ‘Irene said she thought that that was what would happen. She wasn’t even sure if her own mother would have her back.’ Now she glanced at Edie. ‘She’s your best friend, isn’t she?’

  Edie sniffed. ‘She was, but we haven’t spoken since the day Irene arrived home.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  Edie didn’t answer.

  Forty

  As Edie waited for the train, carefully carrying a basket laden with eggs, butter and cheese from the farm, her thoughts were in turmoil. Ruth had hit a raw nerve when speaking about Lil. Edie was missing her old friend more than she would ever have believed possible. Ever since the day that Lil and Tom had moved into the house next door that was only a wall’s thickness from Edie’s home, the two women had been close friends. Each of them having a baby of a similar age had brought the women together as perhaps nothing else could have done. When Tom was lost at sea, Edie became Lil’s rock and she, in turn, was there to help Edie at the births of both Shirley and Reggie.

  Edie sighed as she heaved herself onto the train and found a seat. She hardly saw the countryside passing by the window; her thoughts were turned inwards. What was the right thing to do? Should she go round to make peace with Lil and then they could face this problem together? But the thought made her shudder. Though she longed to see her grandson Tommy, she didn’t want to see Irene and she certainly didn’t want to clap eyes on the little bastard in their midst.

  But there was no doubting the fact that she was missing her dear friend.

  As Edie alighted and left the station, she thought, I’ll wait until Archie gets back from sea. He’ll know what’s best. She sighed again. It had been the story of her life: waiting for Archie to come home from the sea before she could make any momentous decision that affected the family. The only time she’d had to decide something really important had been when she’d sent Reggie away to the countryside with Irene and Tommy. There, she thought, it always comes back to bloody Irene!

  Irene was sitting near the window of the front bedroom overlooking the street below. Lil – though still unsure of the future – had, for the moment, insisted that her daughter should have the bigger bedroom for herself and the baby. Having just fed Marie, Irene had buttoned her blouse and moved closer to the window, watching the comings and goings on the street below. The house was silent. Lil had taken Tommy into the town to buy him some new shoes and even the restless baby was quiet for the moment, replete and sleepy in her arms.

  Irene saw Edie coming along the street, carrying the heavy basket, her expression like thunder. Irene’s hopes died in that moment. Whatever her husband would feel, the woman walking along the street below was never going to allow her son to forgive his wife. As Edie crossed the road towards her home and disappeared from Irene’s view, the young woman tensed, holding her breath as she waited for a knock on their door. But no knock came and Irene breathed a sigh that she wasn’t quite sure was relief or disappointment.

  She laid the baby in the battered cot, which she and Lil had struggled to get down from the attic room. Normally, Lil would have enlisted Edie’s help – and certainly Archie’s, if he’d been at home – but this time . . .

  The baby slept soundly and Irene, exhausted by loss of sleep the night before – Marie had been particularly fractious – lay on her own bed. But sleep eluded her even now for her thoughts were troubled. Of course, she hadn’t meant it to happen. She loved Frank; she still did and she always would. But stuck in the countryside – which she’d hated – miles from family and friends, she’d been lonely and bored. She did her share of the chores in the house and around the farm – she wasn’t an idle girl – but she missed being able to dress up, wear a little make-up and high heels, going into town and having her hair done or going to the cinema. She longed for a girly chat with Beth as they got ready together in Irene’s bedroom for an evening out. She missed town life, the life she was used to and, most of all, she hungered for Frank’s arms around her and his kiss. Of course, she’d got Tommy and young Reggie with her. He was like a younger brother, but it wasn’t the same as having Beth – or even Shirley – here. Besides, Reggie was growing to love the country life. She could see it in his face every day. He actually revelled in being out in all weathers, working in the fields or tending the animals. Young as he was, he worked as hard as any man and certainly as hard as the land army girls, Pearl and Eve. Irene smiled wryly as she thought about those girls. They had been the saving of her sanity and yet the reason for her fall from grace too. For a while, they’d been friendly enough but they hadn’t included her in their evenings out. To them, she was a staid, married woman with a young child, whilst they were young and fancy-free. But one night, when the two girls were getting ready together in the bedroom they shared, Irene had offered to do their hair for them.

  ‘I’ve done my own and my friend’s for years,’ she said, as she combed Pearl’s hair into the latest style.

  ‘Who’s your friend?’ Pearl said.

  ‘Beth,’ Irene said and there was no escaping the wistfulness in her tone. ‘And there was her younger sister, Shirley, too. We often took her out with us. We’ve lived next door to each other all our lives. We’ve grown up together.’

  ‘Is she still at home? Back in Grimsby?’ Pearl wanted to know.

  Irene bit her lip and easy tears filled her eyes as she shook her head. ‘She’s gone to London.’

  ‘London? Crickey, that’s about the most dangerous place she could be, isn’t it?’

  ‘Tell us about Beth,’ Eve said kindly, sensing that Irene needed someone of a similar age to talk to. She doted on her baby boy – that was plain for all to see – and Reggie was a link with home, but they were neither of them great conversationalists. And Ruth, though she was a kindly, motherly woman, was not interested in fashion and hairstyles. Eve doubted she ever had been.

  So, Irene told them all about her life, ending, ‘I miss m
y husband and me mam, of course, but me and Beth had something very special. We really are like sisters, better than some, actually. Well, I suppose she is my sister in a way now.’

  ‘How come?’ Eve asked.

  ‘I married her brother, Frank.’

  Pearl pulled a comical face. ‘Then you’re lucky. Me and my sister fight like cat and dog. Always have done. My mam used to have to step in between us when we were little.’ She grinned as she met Irene’s gaze in the mirror. ‘And not so little, too, if I’m honest. I have to say, I’m not missing having my hair pulled out by its roots.’

  ‘Why don’t you come out with us?’ Eve said suddenly. ‘I’m sure Mrs Schofield would look after little Tommy for you. She adores him. I reckon he reminds her of her own boys. And Reggie too. She’ll mind them both, I’m sure. He’s no trouble.’

  ‘She must be worried sick about her lads,’ Pearl murmured.

  Irene bit her lip. ‘Oh, I don’t know if I ought to.’

  ‘Your Frank wouldn’t mind, would he? He trusts you, doesn’t he?’

  Irene nodded.

  ‘Then do come.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, I’ll ask her, and if she says yes, I’ll come out with you to the dance in the village on Saturday night.’

  Eve squeezed her arm. ‘Of course we’re sure. We’d love to have you with us. And there are some very handsome RAF lads from the camp that’s not far away. Oh sorry,’ she giggled, ‘you’re a married woman.’

  ‘You can always look,’ Pearl teased.

  ‘But you mustn’t touch,’ Eve added and dissolved into helpless laughter.

  And so that is how the Saturday evenings out to the dancing at the YMCA hut in the village had started for Irene. For the first few weeks it had been innocent enough, but then she’d met Ken Forbes.

  She’d danced with several of the other RAF lads – a different partner for every dance so that no one got too close or started to take liberties. Not that they’d tried, she reminded herself; they’d all been perfect gentlemen. And there were several of the village ‘elders’ always present to keep an eye on their local girls and the policeman usually called in just before closing time to make sure everyone behaved. But then, one week, there was a new face on the bus that arrived from the RAF camp. A tall, slim young pilot officer with short curly blond hair and merry blue eyes. He’d stood by the bar at the end of the hut with his pals, his eyes raking the room. Irene had watched him covertly, but his glance had settled on Pearl and he’d made a beeline for her and asked her to dance. They’d only been dancing a few moments, when Mick, a local farmer’s son, had tapped the RAF officer on the shoulder. Even above the music, Irene heard him say, ‘She’s my girl.’

  Irene had seen the newcomer shake his head and his arm tighten around Pearl’s waist. Incensed, Mick grabbed the young man’s shoulder and twisted him round, wrenching his arms away from Pearl. Before anyone could intervene, Mick had aimed a punch at the officer’s face. Pearl had screamed but it was too late – the young RAF officer was on the floor, his hand to his eye. Irene had jumped up and rushed across the room, anxious to break up the fight.

  ‘Now, now.’ The local bobby stepped in, too, before any more blows could be thrown. ‘I think you’d better leave – both of you – but I’d get that eye seen to, young feller, afore your commanding officer catches sight of it.’ He turned to the local farmhand. ‘And you, Mick, should know better. These lads are a long way from home and he wasn’t doing any harm. Now, shake hands with our guest and take your young lady home.’

  Morosely, the two young men shook hands, but as Mick turned towards Pearl, she stood with her hands on her hips and glared at him, her face red with anger. ‘Well, if you think you can call me “your girl” any longer after that display, you can think again.’

  ‘Aw, Pearl . . .’ Mick began to plead, but it was no use. Pearl stalked off to the cloakroom to fetch her coat and called to Eve and Irene. ‘Come on, you two, I’ve had enough for tonight.’

  But Eve was wrapped in the arms of one of the RAF lads and had no intention of leaving early.

  ‘Irene, are you coming?’

  But Irene’s gaze was on the RAF officer, trying to stem the blood flowing from the cut above his eye.

  ‘I’ll – er – wait for Eve. You go, if you want to.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Pearl snapped and went out into the night.

  Irene walked towards the injured young man and said, ‘Come on, let’s get you patched up. There’s a first-aid box in the little kitchen at the back.’

  And that had been the start of it. When she’d bathed his face and put sticking plaster over the small cut, they’d sat together for the rest of that evening until the dance came to an end just before midnight.

  ‘I don’t think it will leave a scar,’ she told him, thinking that it would be such a shame for his handsome face to be marred.

  He’d made light of the injury, but added, ‘I’m sorry it happened. I wouldn’t want to upset the locals. I’ll have to apologize if I see him again. It was my fault. Please tell your friend I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.’ He looked so contrite, his apology genuine.

  ‘I’ll talk to Pearl – see if I can get her to forgive Mick.’

  ‘I wish I’d seen you first, because if I had, I’d have made a beeline for you.’

  As the master of ceremonies – a rather grand name for the young man who organized the weekly village hop – announced that the next dance would be the last, the young RAF officer held out his hand to Irene. ‘Pilot Officer Ken Forbes at your service.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Although I rather think it was the other way round, but now we’ve been properly introduced, please will you dance with me?’

  How could she possibly have refused such a request?

  After that first night, Ken had been a regular visitor to the village dances. He had apologized to Mick, and Pearl had been persuaded to forgive the local boy and their romance was back on track. Irene thought that, secretly, Pearl had been rather flattered to have two good-looking young men fighting over her. The RAF lads arrived on transport from the camp, but one or two would stay later than the time the lorry left to take them back. And soon, Ken was one of those who stayed behind, insisting on walking Irene back to the farm. The second time he’d walked her home, he’d shyly put his arm around her waist. ‘It’s pitch-black tonight. I don’t want you falling over in those high heels.’

  Maybe she should have stopped it there and then, but it was so good to feel a man’s arm around her again.

  The third time, he had drawn her into a field behind the shelter of a haystack and kissed her gently. ‘You know I’m falling in love with you, Irene, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh Ken, you can’t – you mustn’t.’

  ‘Because I might be killed at any minute, you mean?’ he’d whispered sadly.

  ‘No, no, I don’t mean that. You know I don’t. And – and I’m becoming fond of you. Too fond. But you know I’m married, don’t you?’

  Irene had always worn her wedding ring; she’d not tried to hide the fact.

  ‘I thought perhaps your husband had – you know.’

  ‘Frank’s away in the army. He’s been gone for years – I think he’s abroad – but as far as I know, he’s all right.’

  ‘I see.’ There was a pause before Ken had asked softly, ‘But we can still be friends, can’t we? You’ll still come to the dances and let me walk you home, won’t you?’

  Irene hesitated. She really liked Ken. She felt a thrill of excitement when she saw him walking in through the door; her knees actually trembled. It was something she’d never experienced before. Perhaps that was because she’d known Frank all her life. Maybe Aunty Edie had had a point when she’d said they’d been too much like brother and sister; there had never been that first ecstasy of falling in love.

  But now she knew what it felt like.

  Forty-One

  As Edie opened her back door, she was surprised to see Shirley at the sink. ‘
What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone back this morning.’

  ‘I decided to see if I could get an extra day or two on compassionate grounds. So I rang my superior officer and she granted me another two days.’ Shirley grimaced and said sarcastically, ‘Generous, aren’t they? Anyway, Dad’s back tonight and I want to hear what he thinks of all this. And how did you get on with Reggie? I’m surprised he’s not with you.’

  Edie set the basket carefully on the table as she said flatly, ‘He really doesn’t want to come back. That’s another thing your dad will have to decide.’

  But now Shirley’s attention was taken up with the contents of the basket as she said gleefully, ‘Oooo, what have we got in here?’ Already she was reaching out to unpack the goodies.

  Edie tapped her daughter’s hand lightly and, for the first time in days, she smiled. ‘Now, now, keep your mitts off. Mrs Schofield gave me some eggs, cheese and butter.’

  ‘Real eggs?’ Shirley’s eyes widened. ‘My, that was good of her.’ Then she smirked. ‘Unless, of course, it was payment for Reggie.’

  Edie frowned as she said sharply, ‘He’s worth a darn sight more than a few eggs to me.’

  Shirley sat down at the table, still eying the basket. ‘You goin’ to share it with them?’ She tossed her head towards next door.

  ‘Certainly not.’

  Shirley paused before saying craftily, ‘You would have done – before.’

  ‘Well, I aren’t now,’ Edie snapped. Then she looked guilty and murmured, ‘Although it’s a shame to deprive Tommy just because . . .’

  ‘Invite him round for tea, then. No reason why we can’t see him. It’s not his fault, is it?’

  ‘No – poor little scrap. He must be wondering why his gran and Aunty Shirley don’t want to see him.’

  ‘There’s no need to speak to either Aunty Lil – or her. He plays out in the backyard. You can catch him some time and ask him round.’

  ‘That’s a good idea, duck. I’ll do that.’ Edie glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Mebbe tomorrow, eh? It’s getting late now and my feet are killing me.’ She sat down heavily in one of the armchairs near the range.