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The Hidden Women

Page 15

by Kerry Barrett


  Jack gave her a dazzling smile and came forward to kiss her on the cheek. Immy’s jaw dropped and I thought it might be the first time I’d ever seen my talkative little sister properly speechless.

  ‘Jack,’ she stammered. ‘Jack Jones.’

  Jack grinned. ‘That’s me. Shall we go through? We brought some wine – let’s get it open.’

  Laughing at Immy’s still-startled expression, I led the way into the kitchen where Mum and Dad were arguing with Miranda, and Freddie was playing on an iPad.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ said Mum. ‘There’s wine in the fridge. Miranda, I simply don’t understand why you won’t accept that capitalism has had its day.’

  Miranda gave me a weary glance over Mum’s head.

  ‘Thought you weren’t coming,’ I said, opening the fridge door and topping up her empty glass.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t, but Immy called and said she was at Heathrow so I cancelled my meeting.’

  ‘Where’s Pietr?’ I said in an undertone.

  ‘Lounge,’ she said. ‘He said he had to make an important phone call. I think he’s watching the football and occasionally shouting in German to make us all think he’s doing something terribly difficult.’

  I chuckled and turned to Jack. ‘Drink?’ I asked, then in a low voice I added: ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. I thought it would just be Mum and Dad.’

  But Jack looked thrilled by the chaos. ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘It’s great.’

  ‘Hey, Fred,’ I said, ruffling my nephew’s hair. ‘What’s up?’

  He barely looked up. ‘I’m building a castle but pigs keeping getting in,’ he said.

  I looked at him blankly, but Jack plonked himself down next to Freddie and grinned.

  ‘Oh brilliant,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you dig a hole to trap the pigs?’

  ‘Will that work?’ Freddie said doubtfully.

  ‘Worth a try, right?’

  Freddie looked at Jack for a second then nodded. ‘Will you help me?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘You’re both weirdos,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘Minecraft,’ Jack told me over his shoulder. ‘Billy taught me all about it.’

  Billy was his ten-year-old co-star on Mackenzie. I started to say something, but Jack had turned his attention back to Freddie, so instead I poured us both a glass of wine, and sat myself down next to Immy to hear all her news.

  As she regaled me with talk of elephants and lions, I watched my family through Jack’s eyes. I saw Miranda good-naturedly telling Mum to stop talking about stuff she didn’t understand, as Mum ranted about the FTSE. And Dad screwing his face up as Freddie told him the zombies were attacking his village and pretending to be one of the zombies’ victims. And Immy, twisting her hair up out of her way while she acted out a dramatic confrontation between two of the volunteers she worked with. Pietr eventually reappeared and took Miranda’s teasing about his ‘important’ phone call in good humour.

  And I realised that Jack was right – I was lucky to have them. In all their messed-up, unconventional glory. I smiled and as I did, Jack looked up and caught my eye.

  ‘Okay?’ he said. I loved him checking in on me. I nodded.

  ‘Hungry,’ I said. ‘Shall we order?’

  Later, after we’d all eaten, Jack charmed the pants off both my parents by admiring – completely honestly – all Dad’s music and all of Mum’s documentaries; and he won Immy’s heart by saying he would put a link to her conservation project on all his social media. (He had well over a million followers on Instagram. An actual million. I had sixty-four.)

  He raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Ask your dad about Scotland,’ he said in an undertone.

  ‘He won’t remember,’ I said.

  Jack shrugged. ‘Worth a go, though.’

  Miranda was helping a very tired Freddie into his coat. ‘What’s worth a go?’

  ‘Lil was in Kelso, at the start of the war,’ I said to Dad.

  ‘Visiting?’ he asked, his eyes sparking with interest. ‘Or living there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I found the 1939 census and she’s on there. Did she live with you?’

  ‘I don’t remember much about it,’ Dad said, sweeping Freddie into a hug and then kissing Miranda on the cheek and giving Pietr a manly slap on the back. ‘Goodbye, young man. Bye, Miranda. Bye, Pietr.’

  Mum walked to the door to show Miranda and her family out, and Dad offered us all more wine.

  ‘I was very young,’ he said. ‘I remember her visiting but not actually living with us.’

  ‘You lived with Grandma Ruth up there?’ I said.

  Dad nodded. ‘And her godmother; I called her Jemmy,’ he said. ‘Nice woman. It was her house, actually. She died when I was a teenager.’

  ‘Why were you in Scotland? Do you know?’

  ‘It was safer, I suppose. Kent was often bombed when the Germans were heading to and from London. And my grandfather was in a bad way, I believe. Shell shock. I think it was better that we stayed out of the way.’

  I resisted giving Jack a triumphant look.

  ‘Lil wasn’t around much then?’ I said. ‘I guess she signed up when you were too small to remember.’

  Immy was watching me and Dad with curiosity. Mum wandered back in and watched too.

  ‘Aunt Lil?’ Immy said. ‘I didn’t know she lived with you when you were little, like how she lived with us?’

  Mum and Dad exchanged a glance again. Just like they had that first night when I’d found Lil’s name in my notes.

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

  Mum shrugged. ‘Nothing, Nell,’ she said. ‘Your dad was tiny when the war ended, and just a baby at the beginning. You can’t expect him to remember much.’

  Dad looked sheepish. ‘Your mother doesn’t want me to do this research into Lilian,’ he said.

  ‘I’m doing the research,’ I pointed out and Mum smiled at me.

  ‘I worry about her,’ she said. ‘She’s not as young as she was. She said you’d been asking questions about the war and she was quite upset about it.’

  I was horrified. ‘Oh God, was she really?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to cause trouble,’ Dad sighed.

  ‘Well you did,’ Mum snapped.

  Immy and I looked at each other. Our parents hardly ever bickered.

  ‘Should I leave it?’ I said. ‘I’d be glad to, if I’m honest. It’s already causing ructions at work.’

  ‘Things are fine as they are,’ Mum said. ‘Leave it be.’

  Immy looked bewildered, but I just nodded.

  ‘I will,’ I said. ‘I promise.’

  Satisfied, Mum turned her attention to Immy, and over her shoulder Dad caught my eye. He gave a tiny shake of his head and I closed my eyes for a second. Did he really want to carry on, even knowing Lil had been upset?

  I raised my eyebrows questioningly, and he put his hands together in a begging gesture. Bugger it.

  I shrugged and Dad smiled. There was definitely more to this than he was letting on, and briefly I considered tackling him about it. There had to be a reason he was so desperate to find out more.

  But no. I was determined this wasn’t going to upset my Lil. I’d pretend to Dad that the trail had gone cold, I thought. Anything rather than stir up trouble in my fragile family. That’s what I’d do.

  Chapter 27

  Lilian

  November 1939

  ‘Feeling better?’ Ruth smiled at me as I wandered into the kitchen after taking an afternoon nap.

  I nodded. ‘I was just tired,’ I said. I looked over her shoulder and pinched a piece of apple from her chopping board. ‘And hungry. Are you making apple pie?’

  ‘It’s for dinner,’ Ruth said. ‘But I can boil you an egg if you’re starving?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I said. I was permanently starving at the moment and thanked my lucky stars daily that thanks to Jemima, her green fingers and her chickens, we didn’t ever g
o hungry.

  I sat down at the kitchen table and smoothed my dress over my growing bump. ‘The baby is kicking,’ I said. ‘Want to feel?’

  Ruth put a pot of water on the hob to boil and came over.

  ‘Here,’ I said, guiding her hand. Obediently the baby gave a wiggle and then a hefty kick that made me breathe in sharply.

  ‘Uncomfortable?’ Ruth asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Not so much uncomfortable as odd,’ I said. I gave her a sad smile. ‘The whole thing is odd.’

  ‘I know, lovey,’ Ruth said. She was still standing next to me with her hand on my tummy so I rested my head against her apron-clad front and let her stroke my hair. ‘Not much longer.’

  I was about six months pregnant now and we’d been staying with Jemima for several weeks. She’d been gratifyingly pleased to see us when we turned up.

  ‘Thank bloody God,’ she’d said, gathering Ruth to her as soon as we’d got off the train. ‘I’ve been so absolutely bloody lonely.’

  Jemima had been our saviour, really. Welcoming us into her home – and putting us to work – and helping with our deception. I’d played some piano for the local Sunday school, while Ruth worked in the kitchen garden at the farm, growing all sorts of vegetables under Jemima’s guidance. We had been lucky, in a way, that the weather was miserable; we bundled up in sweaters and thick coats and no one noticed my bump – or Ruth’s lack of one – when we walked into town.

  Ruth even wrote weekly letters to my mother, telling her all about my pregnancy symptoms as though they were her own, and she sent regular updates to Bobby, who was now finished with basic training and learning how to fly bombers.

  Now my pregnancy was getting harder to conceal, I spent more time on my own. Jemima had dusted off her old piano and had it tuned for me, which I was pathetically grateful for. But even with music as a companion I wasn’t completely happy. I was really tired now and feeling pretty wretched about the whole thing. More than anything in the world I wanted not to be pregnant. I knew Ruth saw my baby as the answer to all her prayers, and perhaps he or she would be. But I just saw it as a weight pulling me down. I was listless and completely miserable.

  I missed Mr Mayhew dreadfully, and hated myself for missing him. When we’d first moved to Kelso, I’d spent many evenings crying on Ruth and Jemima, trying to explain my conflicted feelings for him.

  ‘I loved him so much,’ I’d sobbed. ‘And I thought he loved me, too.’

  Ruth had wrapped her arms round me and rocked me as though I was the baby. ‘I know, sweetheart,’ she’d cooed. ‘I know.’

  ‘You were too young,’ Jemima had said fiercely. So fiercely, in fact, that I wondered if she’d had similar experiences to mine, but even so I bristled at her dismissing my feelings for Mr Mayhew.

  ‘What does my age have to do with anything?’ I’d snapped back at her. ‘I knew what I was doing.’

  Jemima’s eyes had filled with tears and she’d shaken her head.

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ she’d said. ‘You felt like you were a woman, that you were in charge, leading him on. But you weren’t, Lil. He was in charge the whole time.’

  I’d sat dumbly, realising that what she was saying was true.

  ‘You were – you are – just a kid,’ Jemima had continued. ‘And he took advantage of you and made you think it was all your fault. This Mr Mayhew of yours is a bad man.’ She’d smiled at me. ‘And I can tell you that without even meeting him. He’s a bad man – and you’re well shot of him. You’ve had a lucky escape, my girl.’

  But even though I knew Jemima was right, and even though I knew Mr Mayhew was no good, I still missed him.

  ‘I’m going to go for a walk,’ I said to Ruth now. ‘Might wake me up a bit.’

  She looked alarmed. ‘Into town?’ She glanced at my swollen belly.

  ‘No, I’m going to walk across the fields, get some air,’ I said.

  Ruth smiled. ‘That’s a great idea. The sun’s shining, even if it is freezing out.’

  Ruth helped me wrap up warmly and even guided my feet into my boots – I was finding it hard to bend over now. Then she kissed me on the forehead. ‘Don’t stay out too long,’ she said. ‘And don’t get cold.’

  Pleased to be out of the house, I waddled off down the lane and out into the fields.

  The countryside round Kelso was beautiful and Ruth had been right – it was a beautiful crisp winter’s day. Jemima said she thought it might snow, and I wondered if it would. The hills around would look lovely with a covering of white.

  I trudged in a fairly ungainly fashion across one field, looked at the stile to get into the next one, which was the way I normally went, and thought better of it. I was too big to be climbing over stiles now. I’d go a different way. I followed a small path round the edge of the field, through a wooden gate, and past a small clump of trees. I was feeling warmer now and I unwrapped my scarf and pulled my hat from my head. Up ahead the path snaked upwards to the top of a small hill. I’d walk up there, I thought, rest for a while, and then walk home again.

  I was quite breathless by the time I reached the top, even though it wasn’t too high. The baby was filling my abdomen and squeezing the air out of my lungs, according to Ruth who seemed to know all about pregnancy and babies and childbirth. I certainly felt the air squeezing out of me now, as I puffed and panted my way up the hill, my breath making little fluffy clouds in the cold air.

  ‘Ohhhh,’ I gasped as I made it to the highest point. ‘Goodness.’

  In front of me, the land fell away to a valley. It was such a clear day, I could see for miles – I thought I could even see the sea on the very far horizon. I wondered where the border was. We were only just inside Scotland in Kelso, and I knew the line that divided the countries wiggled about a bit.

  ‘They should mark it with trees or something,’ I murmured to myself. ‘Then everyone would know.’

  I turned slightly away from the sea and gasped again. This time I was looking at an airfield, way below me. I could see little toy planes moving about on the runway and thrillingly one looked like it was about to take off. I watched it speed along and then just as I thought it was going to overshoot and crash into the woods at the end, it lifted off the ground and gracefully swooped up into the sky.

  I felt a warmth in my bones that I’d not felt for a long time. I wondered who was flying the plane and what kind of aircraft it was. I’d often thought of Bobby flying but it seemed different to actually see the planes. Was the pilot I was watching alone up there, or with a crew? I envied him so much it felt like an actual pain in my heart. The freedom of being up there, by himself, flying like a bird through the crisp blue sky.

  I ignored the voice in my head that pointed out he was probably going to fight a German and risk his life in the process. I just thought it looked amazingly, wonderfully, enviably free. A million miles away from me – so fat I could barely walk, stuck in the house away from other people in case anyone realised I was pregnant, trapped in Ruth’s wonderful yet suffocating concern, my wings clipped before they’d even had time to grow.

  ‘I’m going to fly,’ I said to myself. ‘I want to fly.’

  And then I laughed because it was such a ridiculous suggestion. As if to remind me who I was and why I was there, the baby kicked me hard and I realised I needed the toilet, again. With a sigh, I gave the airfield one final glance, and started the waddle back down the hill to Jemima’s house.

  ‘I’ll come back tomorrow,’ I said, talking out loud again. My mother had always said speaking to yourself was the first sign of madness. Which was ironic, because it was when Daddy stopped talking that we really knew he was struggling.

  As I lumbered down the hill, hurrying a little because the baby was wriggling in a way that was making my need for the lav even more urgent, I thought about the little plane and wondered where it was now. I felt that sharp pang of envy again. I was determined to come back and watch the airfield some more.

  Chapter 28


  Helena

  July 2018

  ‘What’s going on with you and Dad?’ Immy asked me on Monday. We were in the pub around the corner from my house – close to my parents, who were looking after Dora again. I thought if this thing with Jack turned into, well anything really, I’d have to find some other babysitters; I didn’t want to take advantage of my parents. Miranda was on her way, too. I’d considered inviting Jack but thought my sisters might be annoyed if my, erm, whatever he was, gate-crashed our catch-up.

  ‘I stumbled on some info about Lil when I was researching Jack’s family for work,’ I explained. I brought her up to speed, just as Miranda arrived, looking uncharacte‌ristically flustered.

  ‘Sodding husbands,’ she said, shrugging off her jacket.

  ‘What’s Pietr done now?’ For all Pietr ran a multimillion-pound department and spoke three languages, he was surprisingly hopeless at everyday tasks. I had a suspicion he did it on purpose just so Miranda would take over. I couldn’t blame him – I did that myself sometimes.

  ‘Breathed,’ she said. ‘Existed.’

  Immy giggled.

  ‘And forgot to pick Freddie up from school.’

  ‘Shit,’ I said.

  She shrugged. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘It was just a miscommunication. I thought Pietr was doing it, because Lotta was at college late.’

  ‘Who’s Lotta?’ asked Immy.

  ‘Au pair?’ I said. It was hard to keep track of Miranda’s ever-changing stream of students.

  ‘Lotta was at college, and I’d told Pietr, but he got his weeks mixed up. It was fine, in the end. Freddie’s friend’s mum rang me and she took him home with her until Freddie’s idiot dad showed up.’

  Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. ‘It’s fine,’ she said again. ‘It was just a mistake.’ She took a breath. ‘It just reminded me,’ she said. ‘Of when Immy was a baby.’

  I patted her hand sympathetically. ‘It’s not like that,’ I said. ‘It’s not.’

  She smiled at me gratefully.

  ‘In a way, it’s worse,’ I said. ‘Because Mum was ill so it wasn’t her fault. But you married Pietr so it is your fault.’

 

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