St Paulinus held many memories for the Caselton family, both happy and sad. She gazed up at the old church, set on the highest point in Crayford. Sarah had wanted to share her wedding day with her family and this was the right place to do just that.
She patted her husband’s headstone. ‘Eddie, I hope you are looking down on us all today. We miss you, my love,’ she murmured.
‘Did you hear what I said, Ruby?’
Ruby looked up as Vera came storming up the path, shattering the peace. ‘Yes, Vera, I heard you the first time. I was just having a few minutes with my Eddie.’
Vera nodded towards the grave and stopped speaking for a few moments. ‘That vicar shouldn’t be ringing the bells. I’ve just told the verger, but he wasn’t interested. He muttered something about cassocks and walked away. I told him in the last shout church bells were only to be used if we had an invasion. He’s not that young that he can’t remember.’
‘Well, I’m sure that even Hitler won’t be marching up the High Street yet, so a few bells to celebrate Sarah and Alan’s big day shouldn’t make much of a difference. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge the kids the sound of church bells ringing on their wedding day?’
Vera sniffed. ‘Far be it from me to spoil their day, I’m sure. I’ll get walking back to Erith or there’ll be no ham left, and I’m not partial to fish paste.’
‘Now, Vera, don’t be a daft so-and-so. There will be a seat for you with our Pat. They brought the horse and cart from the farm. It looks a fair treat all dressed up with ribbons and the like.’
Vera wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t want me best coat smelling of horses.’
‘When did you get so fussy? Your old man took you everywhere on his cart when he had his milk round. You never complained of horses back then.’
Vera smiled. ‘They were good days, weren’t they? My Don and your Eddie down the boozer on a Sunday and rolling home for their dinner with bags of winkles and cockles for our tea. I’m feeling fair famished just thinking about it. How much longer do you think the photographs are going to take?’
‘We’re going to be a bit longer, what with George playing with his camera. He bought it special for the wedding. Irene hasn’t stopped telling everyone how much it cost and how it’s got all the latest knobs and bits on it. As long as I have a nice picture to put in a frame for the sideboard, I don’t care how much his camera cost.’
Vera nudged Ruby. ‘Here, do you think George would take a picture of me? I’d like one of me in all me finery.’
‘I’m sure he’ll take one of you – that’s if he doesn’t run out of film. He’s pointed the box at everything in sight. I even caught him taking a photograph of the vicar and the verger having a fag. That’ll go down a bomb with the Mothers’ Union. Now, help me to my feet and let’s join the fun.’
‘Happy, Mrs Gilbert?’
Sarah squeezed next to Alan as he sat on a bench in Ruby’s back garden. They’d done the right thing by having the reception at her nan’s house. Family and friends were packed into every room, as well as sprawling out into the back garden and the road out front. Trestle tables had been borrowed from the Methodist hall and groaned under the weight of food that the family had prepared in the days leading up to the wedding. Nearby, a group of young children ran in and out of the Anderson shelter, shrieking with laughter and without a care in the world. ‘I’ve never felt so happy. Our wedding has been wonderful.’
‘Despite Hitler not playing cricket today and you wanting to cancel the wedding this morning?’
Sarah giggled. ‘You know what I mean. Even war being declared didn’t spoil our happy day. Whatever happens in the months to come, we will have made some wonderful memories.’
Taking a sip of brown ale from his pint glass, she wrinkled her nose. ‘How can you drink that stuff? It’s awful.’
‘Then stick to your port and lemon or whatever it was you were sharing with Freda.’ Alan placed his glass on the ground and pulled Sarah into his arms. ‘That’s better. Did I tell you how beautiful you looked as you walked down the aisle?’
Sarah leant her head to one side, considering his question. ‘I do believe you did, at least ten times, but you can say it again if you wish.’
‘Then I’ll tell you again. Now give me a kiss, Mrs Gilbert.’
‘With pleasure, dear husband.’ Sarah closed her eyes and surrendered to Alan’s kisses.
He held her tightly as if he’d never let her go.
She squealed. ‘You’re squeezing all the air out of my body. How can I kiss you when I can’t breathe?’
Alan reached for his glass and took a deep gulp, a look of fear on his face. ‘Sorry, love, I just didn’t want to let you go.’
Sarah shuddered as if something or someone had walked over her grave. ‘Alan?’
‘Here, you two, are you coming indoors?’ Freda said as she popped her head round the corner. ‘Maureen’s going to play the piano. We can have a sing-song. What are you doing out here, anyway? It’s getting a bit chilly.’
‘I thought so as well,’ Sarah answered, remembering how she felt as Alan held her far too tight. ‘I only came out to find Alan. It was so noisy in the scullery. Maisie and Joe were having a bit of a ding-dong. The poor bloke’s only been here a few minutes and she’s laying into him like no one’s business even before he’s had a beer.’
Freda grinned. ‘He’s only gone and joined the army. Maisie’s livid, as it means she’ll be living on her own with Joe’s mum, and the pair of them never see eye to eye.’
‘Oh, poor Maisie.’ However funny it was for Sarah to think of her friend being left alone under the same roof as her dreadful mother-in-law, she knew just how Maisie must be feeling. Although Alan hadn’t yet heard from the RAF, she knew that one day he would go away and she would be distraught too. At least she had Ruby and her friends nearby, and her dad would visit often. At the moment George was living more in Erith than Devon, with him being in demand at the vast Vickers factory in nearby Crayford. ‘Perhaps we ought to go in and rescue Joe?’ Sarah rose to her feet to follow Freda back into the kitchen. ‘Are you coming, Alan?’
Alan picked up his glass. ‘I’ll finish my beer first, love.’
Sarah gave Alan a backward glance as she followed her chum into the kitchen. Her husband seemed quiet. Already he was looking into space and a million miles away from Ruby’s back garden.
Alan lit a cigarette, his fingers touching the letter in his jacket pocket as he reached for his lighter. It had been a wedding gift from his new wife and was engraved with their initials. He knew the words of the letter off by heart. How could he tell Sarah that he would soon have to travel north to start his training with the RAF? He’d had the letter for two weeks now and there hadn’t been the right time to sit her down and explain. How could he spoil what was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives? He snorted to himself. Happy? The country goes to war and he is supposed to be happy?
‘There you are, Alan. I thought by now you’d be at the piano joining in the sing-song.’ George sat next to his son-in-law and took a cigarette as Alan held out the packet. ‘Not changed your mind about marrying my daughter, have you, lad?’ he asked with a smile on his face. George liked Alan and in the few short months since he’d got to know him, he’d grown to consider Alan part of his family and the son he never had.
‘Not for one moment, George.’
‘Then why the glum face?’
Alan knew he had to tell George his secret. ‘I’ve kept something from Sarah and now I don’t have the nerve to tell her.’
‘Not been hiding a wife and six kids away, have you?’ George laughed.
‘Nothing as simple as that, I’m afraid.’
George looked serious. ‘I think you’d better tell me all about it.’
Alan reached into his pocket for the letter and handed it to his father-in-law. ‘You’d best read this.’
George turned the brown envelope over in his hand. He could see that it came from the Royal A
ir Force due to the mark stamped on the back. He pulled out the single sheet of paper and read the words before replacing it inside the envelope and handing it back to Alan. ‘And you say you’ve not told Sarah?’
Alan nodded.
‘Well, Alan, you’re about to learn the first rule of marriage. Never keep a secret from the wife. She’ll know a mile off if something is wrong. Believe me, my Irene can spot a secret almost before there is one. They can make you suffer for weeks if they think you’re up to something. Now, it’s none of my business, but I take it you’ve planned a honeymoon?’
‘Yes, I was going to surprise Sarah. We were to go touring on my motorbike for the next week and stop over at pubs along the way. I thought she’d like it. We will only be back at Woolworths a few days before I have to report for duty.’
George thought for a moment. How could he tell this young man that his daughter was not as keen on riding on two wheels as her new husband was? Ruby had told George how quiet she was after her trip with Alan earlier on in the year. ‘Leave it with me, lad. I’ll pop down the phone box and make a call. You go enjoy the party, and whatever you do, don’t say one word to my daughter until I give you the nod.’
‘OK. Cheers, George.’
‘You’ll learn, Alan. Get a few years of marriage under your belt and you’ll know how to keep out of trouble.’
‘Don’t forget to save the top tier for the christening!’ Vera called out as Sarah and Alan cut the wedding cake together.
‘That’s jumping the gun. Or at least I hope it is,’ Irene sniffed, giving Alan a glare. ‘Plenty of time for children later on, when this war is over.’
‘Mum, please,’ Sarah hissed, feeling embarrassed to be discussing her married life in front of the many people who had crowded into number thirteen to share the couple’s happy day.
Ruby spotted Sarah’s discomfort. ‘Let’s cut the cake up and have a slice with a cup of tea, shall we?’
‘I’d rather have a sherry with mine, if it’s all the same to you,’ Vera said, holding out an empty glass.
‘I’ll help you, Mother,’ Irene said, getting to her feet. ‘There’s a knack to cutting a wedding cake and pouring sherry,’ she added, taking the glass from Vera.
‘I’d like to say a few words,’ George announced.
‘Whatever for, George?’ Irene asked as she brandished Ruby’s best bread knife ready to cut up the cake. ‘You made your speech this afternoon. There’s no need to hog the limelight. It’s Sarah’s day, not yours.’
George ran his fingers round his starched collar trying to ignore Irene and the knife. ‘I’d just like to give Sarah and Alan a wedding present.’
Irene frowned. ‘We gave them a canteen of cutlery, George.’
‘This is a little extra.’ He cleared his throat. ‘With everything that’s gone on today, we can all agree that perhaps the outbreak of war is not the best time to start married life, but I know we all wish Sarah and Alan the very best.’ He held out an envelope to Sarah. ‘Here’s a little something for you to start off your life together. It’s to help build on those memories you are always talking about, Sarah.’
Sarah took the envelope from George. She spotted Betty nodding wisely from where she was sitting by the piano with Alan’s mum, Maureen. Sarah had taken Betty’s advice and had told her dad about making memories. Inside was a key and a slip of paper with an address. She passed it to Alan, who looked equally puzzled.
‘Come on, lad, tell us what it is,’ Ruby called out as she placed slices of rich fruit cake covered in marzipan and sparkling white icing onto her best meat plate. ‘This cake will be ready to hand out soon and we all want to know what the gift is.’
George helped himself to a chunk of white icing with a silver leaf attached and licked his fingers. ‘It’s the key to my car so Alan can borrow it to drive Sarah to their honeymoon.’
‘Honeymoon?’ Sarah asked, looking puzzled. ‘Alan, I thought we’d decided to take a few day trips rather than go away?’
‘Now you can enjoy yourself for a few days instead of being under your nan’s feet,’ George added.
‘Don’t bother me none who’s under my feet. I like a full house. Besides, you and Rene will still be here,’ Ruby butted in.
‘No, you’re wrong, Mother. We are driving back to Devon tomorrow, as I have a luncheon appointment with the ladies’ golf team on Tuesday . . . George?’
‘Sorry, love. We can go back by train. Alan and Sarah need the car more than we do at the moment.’ He leant close to his wife. ‘I’ll explain later.’
‘I hope so, George. Here, have some cake.’
Sarah peered at the slip of paper. ‘What does it say, Alan?’
Alan looked at George with a puzzled expression on his face.
‘It’s an address in Whitstable for a boarding house. I stayed there once when I had to travel to the other side of Kent for work. The landlady is expecting you there in the morning, and you are booked in for the week. It’s all paid for, so enjoy yourselves and try and stop worrying about everything, Sarah. What will be will be,’ George said.
Sarah flung her arms around George. ‘Thank you so much, Dad. It’s the perfect present.’
‘The warm sun is marvellous. You wouldn’t think it was September, would you? I feel quite sleepy.’ Sarah stretched out on the rug that Alan had laid on the beach. They’d found a sandy patch between the pebbles and, after sharing a picnic, were enjoying the sun on their faces while looking out to sea. Among the few fishing boats out in the estuary were gunmetal-grey ships heading with determination out to sea. Just looking at them gave Sarah the shivers. She’d close her mind to everything except the beautiful weather, the honeymoon and her devoted husband. Alan was an attentive lover. Any fears she’d had about their first time together had been swept away as they explored each other’s bodies and he gently showed her just how much he adored her. Sarah spent the night in Alan’s arms, her head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as he slept, unable to believe how much she was loved and how wonderful their life together would be . . .
‘Wake up, sleepyhead. Are you going to snooze all afternoon?’
Sarah awoke to find Alan leaning over her. ‘Goodness, did I sleep for long? You should have woken me.’
‘I didn’t like to. You looked so peaceful and without a care in the world. I want to memorize every detail of your beautiful face, even the scattering of freckles that you hate so much.’
Sarah rubbed her face. ‘It’s the sun. It always happens.’ She stopped rubbing her face and froze. ‘Why do you need to memorize . . . ? Oh, Alan, no! The RAF can’t have you yet.’ She sat up quickly and reached for her husband. ‘When?’
Alan took her hands and kissed both palms before looking into her eyes, where he could see unshed tears. ‘Be strong, Sarah. We knew it was going to happen soon. I’ve had the letter since before our wedding. I didn’t want to spoil our day. God knows Hitler did his damnedest, but we managed to have a great day despite the outbreak of war, and I swear to you nothing will spoil our life together. I may be away for a while, but you’ll be here in my heart and I’ll be thinking of you all the time.’
Sarah smiled; she had to be brave for Alan. He mustn’t see that her heart was breaking. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t think of me too much while you’re flying your plane. We don’t want you having an accident, now do we?’
‘Oh, my love, I’ll hate being away from you, but I promise it will pass quickly; then we can plan for our future. I’ll be manager of a branch of Woolworths and you can be mother to our brood of children and make our own mothers proud grandmothers.’
Sarah smiled and bit her lip to remind herself not to cry. ‘I’m not sure that my mother will like the title. She’s sure to say it makes her feel too old.’
‘Whatever name she uses, she is sure to love any child of yours. George will be chuffed to bits. I can see him taking our lad fishing and teaching him to ride a bike.’ He helped Sarah to her feet and reached for the r
ug. ‘I told George about my call-up letter on the day of our wedding.’
‘Is that why he sprang this honeymoon surprise on us?’
‘Yes. He thought you would like it more than what I had planned, and he wanted us to have some time to ourselves before I left.’
‘My goodness. Whatever did you plan?’
Alan’s face lit up. ‘A tour on Bessie, and we would stay overnight in different pubs and inns.’
Sarah tried not to laugh. Bless Dad for stepping in, she thought, as she linked arms with Alan. ‘I’m sure it would have been lovely, Alan, but Dad’s surprise means we can spend more time together, rather than me sitting behind you as we travel around the countryside.’
There, she thought, my first white lie to my husband, but it was for the best. She’d not tell him just yet that she preferred to walk on her own two feet than sit on Bessie and be shaken to pieces. For the short time she had him to herself, she didn’t wish to disappoint Alan in any way.
‘When do you have to leave, Alan? Please don’t say we have to cut our honeymoon short.’
‘No, we have a few days at home before I set off for Scotland and my training period. I’m hoping that if I pass all my exams, I’ll be posted at an airfield in the south of England so I can come home as much as possible. It’ll give us something to look forward to.’
‘Alan, please, there’s no need to try to cheer me up. Wherever you are posted, we will find a way to be together as much as possible. I won’t lie. It will be strange not to see you every day. I don’t think we’ve missed seeing each other ever since the day I started work at Woolworths.’
The Woolworths Girls Page 16