The English Wife

by Adrienne Chinn

  She didn’t like Thomas at all. Sure, he was handsome, and he could be funny, though his friend Charlie was much funnier. But, he wasn’t George. She could get George to do anything she wanted. So what if it was just because he wanted to make Ellie happy? She didn’t care. George was sweet. A bit dull – even she could see that – but sweet. Thomas was, well, he never paid her any notice, and that just wouldn’t do at all.

  Dottie stops on the corner by the church and unfolds the telegram. Why did Thomas have to come to Norfolk and make a mess of everything? She takes a deep breath and tears the telegram in two. She’s about to tear it again when she stops.

  No, Dottie. No, you never know when it might come in handy. Ellie would never want Poppy to see it. Trying to keep everything a secret, weren’t you, Ellie?

  She folds the two pieces of paper together and slides them back into her pocket. She’ll keep the telegram. Put it in a safe place. You never know when it might come in handy.

  Chapter 35

  Tippy’s Tickle – 16 September 2001

  Emmett grasps the jagged rock at the face of the cave and pulls himself up the cliff face until he secures a foothold on the cave floor. He clambers into the cool dampness, the safe place.

  He’d had to come the long way today, and hide the boat behind some rocks on the far side of the headland at Seal Point, what with Sam coming out this way on the cruiser with the others later. Tricky manoeuvring that, what with the waves, but luckily the wind wasn’t up too much. Another couple of weeks and the waves would make getting to the cave impossible. Winter was hard. No place to escape to. No place to go where he couldn’t be bothered by anyone. Eight months before he could get back to his cave.

  Everybody’s a busybody in a small place like Tippy’s Tickle. Sam’d said once you could disappear in a big city like Boston. People keeps to themselves. That’d suit him just fine.

  Unlooping his brown leather satchel, he takes out a paper bag and two of his mother’s white linen napkins. Spreading one of the napkins out over a flat rock at the mouth of the cave, he unloads the paper bag: a chicken sandwich, a dill pickle, a piece of blueberry duff, a bottle of Molson’s Canadian. He tucks the other napkin into his shirt collar and settles back to eat.

  ***

  Emmett wipes his face with his handkerchief and rolls up the paper bag and the two napkins and stuffs them back into his satchel. Reaching into the bag, he removes a stack of papers. He slides out one of the papers and reads.

  Something out on the water below the cliff catches his eye. The cruiser. He shrinks back against the cave wall. He can just make them out. Sam at the wheel with Becca, his mother and that Englishwoman. The boat comes to a stop. Florie totters from the stern to join the others just as a humpback breaches near the boat. Becca jumps around, clapping her hands.

  Relief floods over him, like the warmth of the sun breaking through a thundercloud. Becca seems all right for all she went through yesterday. The fairies must’a just wanted to play.

  He takes a swig of beer and slides out another piece of paper. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he settles down to read.

  Chapter 36

  Norwich, England – 13 November 1942

  Ellie reaches into the drawer and lifts out the folded pink nylon negligee. She sits on the bed and runs he hands over the silky fabric. It had been dear, a week’s wages and eleven clothing coupons from the ration book, but she’d wanted to look special on her wedding night. The wedding night that hadn’t happened.

  Thomas, why didn’t you telegram me like we’d agreed? I was ready to jump on the train to London. What happened? Did you change your mind? Are we still engaged? What am I to think, Thomas?

  She carefully unfolds the negligee. Her heart jumps in her chest. She drops to her knees, searching under the bed and the chest of drawers. Nothing.

  Where’s her engagement ring?

  She roots through the underwear and nighties in the drawer. She’d put the velvet box in here, folded inside her negligee. She knows she did.

  She closes the drawer and stands up. She looks into the mirror sitting on top the chest of drawers. Drumming her fingers on the lace doily, she draws her eyebrows together in a frown.

  Dottie.

  ***

  ‘Ellie? What are you doing in my room?’

  Ellie looks up at her sister from the window bench, the navy velvet jewellery box in her lap. She holds out the telegram. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have been looking in my room!’

  ‘This is my telegram. What are you doing with it?’

  Dottie rushes forward and snatches for the sheet of yellow paper. Ellie jerks it away. ‘It’s my telegram, Dottie! I was supposed to go to London to marry Thomas. He’ll think I … he’ll think I—’ She presses her hand against her mouth. ‘Oh, Dottie, how could you? This is an evil thing you’ve done.’

  Dottie stamps around the room, her arms wrapped around her body. ‘I’m going to tell Poppy you went through my things.’

  ‘Dottie! What’s got into you? You stole my engagement ring and you hid a telegram meant for me. A very important telegram. Poppy would be appalled! Poor Mummy must be spinning in her grave.’

  ‘Don’t you talk about Mummy like that!’

  ‘Well, it’s true, Dottie! It’s shocking what you did. It’s theft, pure and simple. It’s a sin.’

  Dottie throws herself onto the bed and bursts into tears. ‘You’re awful, Ellie! You’re awful! You were going to just run away!’

  ‘I wasn’t going to just run away. I was coming back. I was only going to be gone a few days.’

  ‘You were! You were running away! You were leaving me and Poppy behind!’

  ‘I wasn’t, Dottie!’

  ‘Wait till I tell Poppy!’

  ‘No, don’t do that. Don’t tell Poppy. Promise me. This whole thing will only upset him. I’m still here. Nothing’s changed.’

  ‘You were going to leave! Just like Mummy did.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Dottie sits up and wipes at her tear-streaked face. ‘Mummy left us, didn’t she?’

  ‘It was an accident, Dottie. You know that. You were there.’

  A sob escapes from Dottie’s mouth. ‘Don’t leave me, Ellie. Please don’t leave me.’

  Ellie sets down the telegram and walks over to the bed. Sitting down, she hugs Dottie. ‘I won’t leave you, Dottie. I promise. We’re sisters, aren’t we? If you promise not to tell Poppy about the engagement, I won’t tell him that you’ve turned into a little thief.’

  Dottie sniffs and nods. She doesn’t need to tell Ellie that Thomas rang from the train station. That she’d promised him to tell Ellie he’d rung. Ellie doesn’t need to know that. Maybe Thomas would never come back. That would be the best thing. Everything was fine now. Everything would be fine.

  Chapter 37

  Tippy’s Tickle – 16 September 2001

  Florie sets three cake tins on the kitchen table with a piece of oily paper covered with blue-inked scribbles. ‘Right. Are you sure you knows what you’re doin’? You have baked a cake before?’

  ‘Well, I used to help my mother occasionally,’ Sophie says as she fishes two wooden spoons out of the cutlery drawer. ‘I’m sure Becca and I can figure it out, can’t we, Becca?’

  Becca nods and signs, ‘Yes!’

  ‘Off you go, Florie. Go spend some time with Ellie. Just show me how to turn on the oven.’

  ‘You don’t knows how to turn on the oven? This is gonna go well.’ Florie twists a knob and sets the temperature. ‘Don’t put the cake into the oven until that red light – you see that little light there? – until that light goes off or the cake’ll come out flat as a pancake.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Right. I’m thinkin’ I’m makin’ a big mistake here.’

  ‘Go, Florie.’ Sophie marches her towards the door to the hallway. ‘We’ll do you proud, won’t we, Becca?’

  Becca signs to Florie.

>   ‘Oh, is that right, maid?’ Florie signs back. ‘The best birthday cake Ellie’s ever had? Better than my cakes? We’ll see about that.’

  Sophie ties on a pink-flowered apron and gestures for Becca to turn around as she ties a yellow apron with bee pockets around the girl’s tiny waist. ‘Okay, Becca. Do you know where Florie keeps the flour?’

  Becca takes Sophie’s hand and leads her into the pantry. Sophie holds up Florie’s scribbled recipe. Pointing at the paper, Becca signs to Sophie.

  Sophie shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, Becca. I don’t understand.’

  Becca lets out a loud huff. She points at the word flour and signs it. Sophie copies her, the recipe fluttering through the air with her movements. ‘Flour. Right, I get it.’

  Becca points to a top shelf and Sophie reaches for the large yellow bag of Robin Hood flour and sets it on the floor. ‘Okay, boss, what’s next?’

  Becca points to the next ingredient on the list and signs cocoa.

  ‘Got it.’ Sophie signs cocoa. She scans the shelves until she finds the can of Fry’s Cocoa. She points at a bag of sugar. ‘We need sugar, right?’

  Becca nods and signs sugar.

  Sophie tosses Becca the bag of sugar. ‘We make a great team, Becca. This cake is going to be awesome.’

  ***

  Sam jabs his finger into the bowl of chocolate icing and sticks it in his mouth. Becca slaps his hand and signs at her father.

  ‘Oh, really, Becca-bug? I’m naughty, am I?’

  ‘Get your hand out of there, Sam,’ Sophie says as she sets a china cake stand on the yellow checked oilcloth she’s draped over the mahogany table. ‘We have a lot of cake to frost. Just look at them. They turned out great.’

  Sam leans over one of the rounds of chocolate cake cooling on racks on the table. ‘Smells fantastic.’ He looks over at Becca. ‘Maybe I can have just a little piece now.’

  Becca shakes her head, her blonde ponytails bouncing either side of her face. ‘No, no, no, Daddy. It’s for Gramma’s birthday,’ she signs.

  ‘If you don’t tell Gramma, I won’t.’ Sam takes a fork off the table and makes to stab at the cake.

  Sophie dives at the fork. ‘Oh, no you don’t! Give me that fork, Sam.’

  Sam hides the fork behind his back. ‘I’m having that cake, Princess Grace.’

  Becca giggles soundlessly, clapping her hands and stamping her feet as Sophie grabs for the fork.

  ‘Give me that fork!’

  Sam holds the fork above his head. ‘I don’t think so. Rupert! Get away from that cake!’

  The dog barks out several loud woofs.

  The screen door flies open and Florie enters the kitchen carrying packages of birthday candles. ‘Jaysus Murphy, you could wake the dead with all this racket. Look at the state of this place. Did you use every bowl in the kitchen? I thought you said you knew how to bake.’

  ‘We do know how to bake now, don’t we, Becca?’

  Becca runs over to Sophie and gives her a hug. She smiles at her father, signing.

  Sam looks at Sophie and nods. ‘Yes, Becca. I think you make a great team, too.’

  Chapter 38

  Letters – Winter 1942–1943

  166th (Newfoundland) Field Regiment

  c/o APS Algiers, Tunisia

  December 11th, 1942

  My darling Ellie Mae,

  Here I am in Africa. Not a place I ever thought I’d set foot in. You probably heard what’s going on here on the wireless. The Newfoundlanders have been in the thick of it. Can’t say more than that, as I know they’ll take their black pen and XXXXXXXXXXXXXX.

  What happened, maid? I waited for you at Liverpool Station. Sent the telegram out to you a week before to let you know where and when. I stood there all day. Must have smoked three packets of cigarettes, and I don’t normally smoke! I tried calling the fire station, but the phone just rang on. I called your house and got hold of Dottie. She said you were out with George. I told her to tell you that I love you. I made her swear. They shipped us out shortly after that. My heart’s down in my shoes, Ellie Mae, and that’s not a good place for it at all.

  Write to me, maid, please? Send it to the Army Postal Service in Algiers. The office has just been opened or I’d have written sooner.

  It’s awful not hearing from you. It’s a feeling worse than pulling up your squid jigs and finding them empty. That’s a terrible thing, let me tell you.

  I miss you, maid. Even more than I miss my mam’s cod and brewis, and that’s saying a lot. Once you taste it, you’ll know what I’m saying.

  My darling, I think about you from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep – did you know it’s as cold as a turr on a ballycatter here at night? Never thought the desert would be cold. You learn something every day.

  Tell me about the fire station and your sister and your dad. Tell me everything you’re doing. I want to imagine it all. You don’t know how much thinking about you gets me through these days.

  If I don’t hear back from you, I’ll guess that you’ve had some sense talked at you and you’ve decided to give me the heave-ho. It’ll break my heart, maid. I expect George is buzzing around you like a nipper in August. I’ll bet he danced a jig when I was gone.

  I love you, Ellie Mae. You know I do.

  Thomas

  PS: I’ve just looked. My heart’s still in my shoes.

  ***

  Headmaster’s House

  St Bartholomew’s Catholic School for Boys

  Norwich, Norfolk

  February 5th, 1943

  My dearest Thomas,

  I can’t tell you how happy I was to receive your letter! Yes, my darling, I’m here in Norwich, working at the fire station as I ever was, missing you every day. Poppy and Dottie are well, though Dottie has taken to moping about and being cross with me when I tell her I’m not interested in getting back with George since you left, except as a friend, of course.

  I waited for your telegram. After you left, I listened for the telegram boy every day when I was home. It was the first question I’d ask Poppy and Dottie when I arrived home from work. But it never came. I thought you’d changed your mind. I thought, once you’d got to London, you’d realised how impossible it was for us to even think of a life together. We’re from different parts of the world, you’re Protestant and I’m Catholic, and you said your mother warned you about Catholic girls!

  I was so upset. I’d sit in Chapelfield Gardens in my lunchtime and cry. I walked in Plantation Garden and cried. I cried all over Norwich! I’d take my engagement ring out of the box and put it on when I was alone in my room. I’d pretend you were about to arrive. I’d dress up in the green dress you like and even put on the lipstick you got me from the GIs. I’d imagine us dancing at the Samson. Then, of course, I’d cry.

  Then, a couple of months after you left Norwich, I found your telegram in a drawer in Dottie’s room. I went quite mad with her, you can imagine! And after I read in your letter that you’d rung the house and spoken to Dottie, well, I was very, very cross indeed! And she said she’d forgotten you’d rung! I honestly don’t know what’s got into her. She’s become a right little madam. I’ve barely spoken to her since. I’m still very cross with her.

  Here’s me running on about my sister problems. Darling Thomas, my heart is soaring and I’m happy as I’ve ever been. I’m waiting for you, my darling. Come back to me. I’ll be here.

  Your loving fiancée,

  Ellie Mae

  Chapter 39

  Tippy’s Tickle – 16 September 2001

  Emmett heads further into the cave and steps onto a calcified ledge, reaching around a stalactite for the cloth bag. He unties the drawstring and lifts out a package the size of a basketball wrapped in one of Florie’s red bandanas. Unwrapping the bandana, he runs his hands over the gift he’s been working on for the past few months.

  He doesn’t know where he got the idea from. It just came to him, as things often do, out of the blue. Just pieces of driftw
ood and old lobster traps he’s carved up and slotted together, like putting one of his mother’s puzzles together, until it has formed into a vase the shape of the earth. A flat-bottomed earth, open on top.

  She probably didn’t even have a gift for his mam, seeing how she’d just showed up out of nowhere. His cousin, Mam had said. He didn’t need a cousin. They’d all been just fine without her. People complicated things, like when Sam came.

  He’d been happy doing his boat work. He’d saved hard to buy Rod Fizzard’s old store. No one bothered him there. Home for noon dinner and supper, prayers and bed. Church on Sunday. Going out in the boat whenever he wanted. Now he’s got Sam there down at the store. He did that for his mam; took Sam on as a favour. And even though they got through more work, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as being on his own.

  Sooner they both left, the better.

  He wraps the vase back up in the bandana and tucks it into the cloth bag. Time to get back to the house. He can’t wait to see his mam’s face when she sees his gift. Nothing is too good for his mam.

  I’ll set things right for you, Mam, don’t you worry. Don’t you worry at all.

  Chapter 40

  Norwich, England – 24 December 1943

  The large red bauble sits like a newborn in its swaddling of newspaper. Ellie lifts it carefully out of its wrapping and holds it up to the ceiling light, smiling at her distorted reflection in the round ball. It had always been her favourite, and it had somehow managed to escape unscathed through twenty-one years of curious cats and Christmas trees pulled down by grasping toddlers. She rests it back in its newspaper nest and picks up the string of coloured light bulbs, wrapping the string around her arm until it’s a neat loop. Another Christmas without the lights. An extravagance too far while the war staggered into another year.

  Tidying the lights away into a cardboard box, Ellie sits back on her heels and frowns at the space she’s cleared in the corner for the Christmas tree. The metal tree stand is ready. She’s had to banish her father’s footstool to the hallway to make room. He’ll grumble, like he always does. Another Christmas tradition.