Wartime on Coronation Street

by Maggie Sullivan

  They took their drinks to a quiet corner of the room, away from the band. There they sat at one of the small tables that had been carefully covered by a special cloth and talked without being drowned out by the music. Jones was wandering about the room with a large glass jug, offering to refresh people’s drinks, but it soon became clear that his offer of service was not extended to the POWs. Pietro made no comment but got up and collected their empty glasses. ‘I go. I get more to drink,’ he said, pointing to where the punch bowl stood on the table next to what was left of the snacks.

  ‘He not nice person,’ he said, indicating Jones. ‘I not understand but he no like Italian people.’ And he quickly came back with two full glasses. Vera found she couldn’t stop her body swaying in time to the music and her foot was gently tapping on the wooden floor. You want more dance?’ Pietro asked.

  Vera shook her head. ‘No thanks. Maybe later,’ she said.

  ‘OK. Then now you see picture.’ He put his glass down on the table. ‘See, I bring special to show you,’ he said, and he delved into one of the front pockets of his uniform shirt. ‘This my fiancée,’ Pietro said proudly as he laid it on the table. Vera picked up the picture of a girl with thickly braided dark hair and a broad smile and studied it.

  ‘She beautiful, no?’ Pietro said. ‘She really like film star also.’

  Vera stared down at the dark-haired young girl in the photograph and was struck by her bright shining eyes. Even in the cracked, much-handled picture her beauty shone out.

  ‘She’s lovely,’ Vera agreed with a smile. No wonder he couldn’t wait to get home to her, she thought, but would such a lovely young girl still be waiting?

  ‘You have picture of Bob?’

  Vera shook her head. It hadn’t occurred to her to ask Bob for a picture when she saw him every day, and her mother hadn’t allowed them to have their picture taken together when they first talked of getting engaged.

  Pietro laughed. ‘Never mind.’ He leaned over and peered into her glass. ‘You finish drink?’ he enquired. ‘You want more?’

  Vera took a final gulp and emptied her glass. ‘No, thanks,’ she said, ‘I’ve had enough.’

  ‘Then come, we go for walk now. We see big moon. Very bright. Very beautiful.’

  Vera hesitated and shivered involuntarily.

  ‘Too cold to walk?’ Pietro said.

  ‘Not at all,’ Vera said. ‘I have my shawl,’ and she drew the large woollen scarf from the chair where she had thrown it and put it across her shoulders and around her arms as she spoke. Pietro put his hand under her elbow to steer her from the room and as he led the way out of the house, Vera was suddenly aware of his closeness.

  ‘We see moon then we find shelter,’ Pietro said. ‘I know place.’

  And he led her away from the manor to a glade in a small stand of trees, above which the moon rose in silvery splendour. Vera was struck by the warmth of him as he stood behind her and wrapped both his arms around her. She had to admit it was very comforting and also romantic standing under the full moon like that.

  ‘It’s very beautiful, just like in the films,’ she said out loud, and her first thought was that she was sorry that Bob wasn’t with her. But if she was honest, Bob was never one to be overly romantic although she was sure that even he would have been moved by this magnificent moon. She had really missed him recently, hated that he hadn’t written to her for ages, even though she had sent him one recently as she had vowed to do, and she thought about what he might be doing right now at home. Was he missing her, she wondered? Pietro was convinced his Sophia was waiting for him. Would Bob actually be waiting for her?

  ‘Tonight is night for love,’ Pietro suddenly said and Vera felt a moment of alarm as she was shaken out of her reverie. ‘Is good, yes?’ he said. ‘But too cold. We need warm. I show you. Why not enjoy?’

  He pulled her closer to him, embracing her with the bulk of his body as they walked towards the gardens where they had been working so hard during the day. Then she remembered the little hut-like structure where they had sought shelter one afternoon when the rain had been particularly heavy. They stepped inside where it was quiet and surprisingly warm and suddenly Vera felt Pietro’s lips descend on hers. Then she gave herself up to his kiss.

  A moment later Vera pulled away and looked into Pietro’s kind eyes. His kiss was nice – but all she could think about was Bob and how she would feel if she knew he was kissing a lass down at the Rovers. She also hadn’t felt that warm, funny feeling in her stomach that she got when Bob kissed her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Pietro,’ she said, pulling back. ‘I don’t think I can give you my love tonight.’

  Pietro looked into her eyes and sighed. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out the picture of his Italian girlfriend, Sophia. ‘The eyes of those we love still see us even though they are not here, yes?’

  Vera nodded.

  ‘Long time it has been since I hear from Sophia.’ He gazed at the pretty Tuscan girl in the picture. ‘I write to her at home, but no reply. Maybe she is gone or married to another. Maybe she not survive?’

  ‘I’m sure she’s all right, Pietro,’ Vera tried to reassure him. ‘It must be very hard for her to know where you are.’

  ‘You think so?’ he asked her earnestly.

  ‘I’m very sure. And at least there are umpteen thousand miles and a war between you and her – I’m not sure what Bob’s excuse is for not writing to me when he’s only in Weatherfield! Even Eric the Bogeyman put pen to paper.’

  ‘Ah yes, the boy with the dripping-tap nose you tell me about.’ Pietro nodded.

  ‘That’s the one.’ Vera shook her head despondently.

  Pietro tutted gently. ‘No one can really know what is in a man’s heart.’ And he lifted Vera’s chin gently with his fingers. ‘What is that phrase you English say, about keeping the pecker up? Your Bob loves you, I feel it. You are kind and lovely woman.’

  Vera smiled and reached towards him to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Pietro.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Lord, we must be getting back.’

  It was late as they made their way back to the barn from their shelter in the little hut and, as they passed the Summer Wing, they noticed to their horror that the POW dormitory had already been locked up.

  ‘Don’t they count how many men they should have?’ Vera asked, surprised.

  Pietro shrugged. ‘No, now we are allies. Also is easy to see everyone.’

  ‘It can’t be that easy if they didn’t notice you were missing!’ Vera said.

  ‘They not expect …’

  ‘But someone must have noticed you weren’t there?’ Vera was appalled.

  ‘Maybe not.’ He shrugged again.

  ‘Well, you can’t spend the night outside, it’s far too cold and you can hardly go back into the house,’ Vera said, ‘so all you can do is to come back to the barn with me.’

  ‘I see you back home. Yes,’ Pietro said.

  ‘No, I can do better than that,’ Vera insisted. ‘There’s a store of hay kept in one corner of the barn downstairs – we all sleep above – so you can kip down there; it’s very dark and it will be warm if you tuck yourself deep in the hay. No one will see you so no one need know. You can go back to your quarters first thing in the morning and hopefully no one will notice you’ve been missing all night.’

  When they made it back to the barn, she showed Pietro where she meant and he burrowed into the sweet-smelling hay and fell asleep instantly. For a moment, watching him, Vera felt so sorry for this kind man, so far away from all his loved ones. She made her way back up to her own sleeping area and, as she picked her way amongst her sleeping pals, Lily whispered to her, ‘Where have you been, it’s the early hours?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in the morning,’ she whispered back.

  Vera was a light sleeper and at the first flicker of dawn she crept down and woke Pietro.

  ‘You must go back to your billet now,’ she urged him as he rubbed the sleep
from his eyes. ‘They’ll have unlocked the gate for the early shift of POWs helping the cow men.’

  Pietro popped his cap back on and made to leave. ‘Goodbye, Vera, we have good adventure last night. And remember – Bob, he will be your husband one day and you make him very happy.’

  Vera smiled and waved him off, his words making her feel warm inside. Maybe letters weren’t that important – she knew how hard she found writing them – and maybe, as she was thinking of him, Bob was thinking of her and making plans back home on Coronation Street?

  Chapter 24

  It was later than usual when the four land girls went across to the main house for their breakfast the next day. Their wake-up call had been delayed as a special concession after the previous night’s festivities, but they were all surprised to find the kitchen in an uproar. Mrs Temple and Tucker were fussing over the porridge that was still bubbling on the cooking range, trying to spoon it into individual bowls before it stuck to the pan, while the footman, Jones, was sitting at the table with an angry scowl on his face. Vera was astonished to see Pietro standing by the door with his hands tied together with a piece of washing line. He was looking bewildered while Jones pointed his finger accusingly at him shouting, ‘It was him! It was him!’

  It looked as if Mr Grayling was trying to smooth things over, but it was plain he wasn’t doing a very good job.

  ‘If you will all calm down,’ Mr Grayling was saying in his normal, level tones and he raised and lowered his hands in a soothing gesture. ‘Now that everyone is here we can go over it from the beginning.’ He turned to Tucker, but it was Jones who jumped up and squared up to Pietro, poking him in the chest with his finger as he shouted, once again, ‘It was him! I’m telling you, it was him!’

  ‘Jones, will you please give Tucker a chance to explain the situation to the girls. You can’t make wild accusations like that, not without proof,’ Grayling said.

  ‘They’re not wild. I have proof,’ Jones insisted. ‘I saw him, what do you expect of a prisoner of war,’ Jones sneered, ‘and an Italian one at that?’ Jones seemed determined to go ahead with his story. ‘When I was on my way to start my shift, I saw him out by the POW huts, creeping back from somewhere.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not, but for now shut up, and let Tucker speak,’ Grayling snapped.

  Tucker turned away from the range, leaving Mrs Temple to dish out the last of the porridge, and faced the girls who had gathered round the table.

  ‘What’s happened is,’ Tucker began, fixing her gaze on Margaret, ‘I came down early this morning to put the final touches to her ladyship’s breakfast tray as I always do, only to find that her favourite silver cruet set had gone missing. It’s only tiny but she loves that set and I always put it out with her breakfast. It was there last night when I set things out on the tray, but this morning it was gone. Poof!’ She snapped her fingers as if she were a magician capable of making something disappear in a puff of smoke. ‘And when I went to the cupboard where I always keep them to see if they were there, I found that one of the silver sugar sifters, the most expensive one, I reckon, the old family heirloom that her ladyship is forever telling me about, had gone an’ all.’

  ‘And he took them!’ Jones began shouting again the moment Tucker paused, pointing once more at Pietro.

  ‘I mentioned it to Jones,’ Tucker continued, ignoring the outburst, ‘as he was the only other person here at the time, and he immediately said he knew who must have taken them.’

  ‘I’ve had my suspicions about him for a long time,’ Jones snarled, glaring at Pietro. ‘He’s always hanging around the kitchen. I found these in his knapsack!’ Jones brandished the silver cruet set in his hands.

  ‘What time did you put everything out on the tray?’ Margaret asked Tucker in an effort to defuse the awkward moment.

  ‘It must have been about midnight,’ Tucker said, ‘just before I went to bed. But I didn’t notice them missing till this morning.’

  ‘And did you lock the kitchen when you went to bed?’ Margaret asked.

  ‘Depends what you mean by locked,’ Tucker said. ‘It’s not possible to get into the kitchen from the outside once I’ve locked the door, but someone could have entered from inside the house.’

  ‘I saw him,’ Jones suddenly announced and that brought an immediate denial from Pietro. ‘What do you expect of a prisoner of war,’ Jones sneered, ‘and a dirty Italian one at that? He’s really a criminal at heart and you must report him immediately to the police, Mr Grayling.’ Jones seemed determined to plough ahead with his story.

  ‘No, no! You not see. Nothing to see. I leave big house early last night. I not come back …’ Pietro started to protest, but then he caught Vera’s gaze and stopped.

  ‘This morning, after Tucker told me, I went immediately to the POW wing,’ Jones said, ‘and when I said why I was there he looked so guilty that I knew instantly I was right.’ He sounded triumphant.

  Vera looked at Pietro. She knew why he had looked so guilty and it had nothing to do with the stolen silver. It was not that she and Pietro had done anything wrong, but she began to panic. Pietro refused to make eye contact but he looked so miserable that she knew she would have to say something soon, before someone acted on the false accusation. Vera knew that Pietro couldn’t have stolen anything, for at that time he had been a long way away from the house and the kitchen with her. She couldn’t let him take the blame for something he didn’t do, even if it meant her getting into trouble …

  Trembling, Vera stood up and cleared her throat then she spoke out as boldly as she dared. ‘It couldn’t have been him,’ she said, ‘because he was with me.’

  ‘The whole night?’ Jones said scornfully.

  Vera was just about to speak when Pietro interrupted her. ‘No, not whole night, I just walk her back to barn and say goodnight.’

  ‘There, you see,’ said Jones with a nasty sneer on his face. ‘I told you it was him; he must have snuck back and taken them after that.’

  Vera wrung her hands, desperate to speak as she knew this couldn’t be true, but Pietro looked at her and shook his head, indicating for her to be quiet. Vera was on the verge of tears.

  ‘That’s it then. Follow me,’ Jones said. ‘I’m taking you to Lady Edgefield and she will call the police.’

  Vera could only look on, appalled, as Pietro was escorted out of the room, knowing that he could face prison if he was found guilty. She was aware of the stares of the other staff and land girls as they absorbed what she had said. Now they all knew she’d been with Pietro.

  That night she sat on the side of her palliasse, after a fretful and miserable day at work, wondering what had happened to her Italian friend, and she told Lily about what had happened the previous night and how it couldn’t have been Pietro.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Lily asked Vera.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Vera said sniffing into her spotted handkerchief. ‘If I tell the truth they might not believe me and think that I was up to no good with him in the barn.’

  ‘But if you don’t say owt, he’ll have no alibi.’ Lily remembered the word from a detective novel she had once read.

  Vera thought about what her mother would say if she found out what she’d been up to and felt a knot in her stomach. ‘Me mam will go mad if she knew I’d been cuddling up to an Italian POW after midnight.’

  ‘Happen you’re right – but I also reckon your mam would want you to tell the truth,’ Lily said with feeling.

  Vera thought for a moment then she nodded. ‘Yes, Lily, you’re right – I can’t let an innocent man be sent to jail.’ The drama of the moment wasn’t lost on them. ‘Let’s go and see Lady Edgefield now,’ Vera said decisively.

  Chapter 25

  Vera felt her knees trembling and she wished she could sit down as she stood in front of Lady Edgefield in her study, but neither she nor Lily were invited to sit during the gruelling interview. Instead she stood on the other side of the large mahogany desk that filled the study
, wishing for the comfort of stroking the long, soft fur of the two dogs that were lying by the hearth.

  ‘Thank you for coming forward, Vera, it can’t be easy speaking out like that in front of your colleagues and I’m sure we all appreciate it. And your explanation of events goes some way towards illuminating the mystery, if not actually solving it because it is obvious Pietro is not the culprit,’ her ladyship said. ‘We’ve never had any trouble with our Italian POWs, apart from a bit of illicit moonshine production and fraternizing with you land girls and I shall not be taking any criminal action against him. However …’ she leaned forward and looked severely at Vera over the top of the half-moon glasses that were perched on the end of her nose, ‘I must make it clear that I do not approve of your behaviour. You were given clear rules to follow before you began working here and you have quite clearly contravened them.’

  It wasn’t a word Vera was familiar with but the angry expression on her ladyship’s face told her all she needed to know.

  ‘For the remainder of your stay, therefore,’ Lady Edgefield continued, ‘I forbid you to see any of the POWs and certainly not the gentleman concerned, unless Mr Abbott or Mr Clarke deem it necessary for your work. Even then,’ she said sharply, ‘I shall give strict instructions to Mr Abbott that, as far as possible, your work schedules should not overlap and that you be heavily supervised.’

  Vera looked down at the floor, face fiery with the blush that she could feel settling on her face.

  ‘I think I have been extremely generous with all of our employees,’ Lady Edgefield said sternly, ‘and in return I expect you to behave yourselves and not to overstep the mark. Under the circumstances I am prepared to draw a line under the incident – but I warn you: one more breach of behaviour like this and you will be reported to your superiors.’

  Vera swallowed hard, bracing herself for what she knew she still had to come. ‘Naturally I shall be reporting the incident to the POWs’ commanding officer and I shall leave him to deal with the matter as he sees fit regarding that particular soldier’s fraternization.’