‘Ninny. You were little… there was nothing you could do.’ Dorothy’s needles stopped and she gazed into space. ‘I can remember the day Mam left us as clearly as if it was yesterday.’
‘And you’ve never despised her?’
‘I was mad with her, yes… and I’ve had all kinds of emotions about her… but I’ve never hated her.’
‘But what kind of mother leaves her kids with strangers?’
‘The desperate kind.’
Mam had wronged Dorothy, yet she still had the capacity to forgive her. But Etty couldn’t – she wouldn’t – change her mind, not even to please her sister. She was in too much pain.
‘Mam can go to the devil for all I care.’
The words rang in the air, and Etty regretted them as soon as they were spoken. She didn’t want the subject of their mother to come between them.
Dorothy looked shaken. ‘Etty, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to find Mam and seek out the truth of what happened, but I promise I won’t try. Not until you’re ready. I’m sure you’ll feel differently one day.’
Etty refrained from spitting out the word ‘never’.
They sat in silence for a while other than the sound of Dorothy’s needles clicking.
‘By the way,’ her voice conveyed the fact she wanted to be back on mutual territory again, ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you something,’ she looked up at Etty. ‘It’s strictly private, mind.’
Etty nodded. The sisters were used to sharing confidences.
‘It’s about May… She had a baby four years ago.’
‘May Robinson? You’re kidding me.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Did she tell you that?’
‘The other night when she came around with a bag of wool. You were out with Trevor.’
‘What did she say?’
‘We chatted about starting a family and it just popped out. Poor girl. It’s been hard for her.’
Etty knew why May had confided in Dorothy. She empathised with people and brought out their good side.
‘Did she say who the father was?’
‘No… but I have my suspicions.’
‘And she abandoned the baby.’ Etty heard the contempt in her tone.
‘That’s what she finds so difficult.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the child is Derek.’
‘Her brother!’ Etty sat open-mouthed.
12
January 1941
May gazed down at Billy as he lay sound asleep in the single bed, hand tucked beneath his cheek. She studied the contours of his face, his wide mouth, the deep creases like wings in his brow, the fluttering of his curled eyelashes as dreams played behind the lids.
It was Sunday, a day off work, and she’d crept up the stairs to see Billy before giving her mother a hand with the housework. Voices echoed from the lane and in the distance car tyres swished on a wet road. Then all was blotted out by the sound of a vacuum cleaner downstairs.
Billy had surprised her by arriving home late yesterday afternoon on a few days pass. May had heard his key in the lock and at the sight of him, smart and handsome in his khaki uniform, her stomach had curled in pleasure. His hair, cropped in regular army fashion, made his face appear boyishly round and the greatcoat he wore, almost sweeping the ground, gave him the appearance of a bairn dressed in adults’ clothes. His lascivious smirk, however, was anything but juvenile.
‘Hi, darling,’ he flashed a heart-melting smile. ‘I hitched a lift up the Great North Road to Newcastle. It was a Hillman. By gum, I froze!’
He squeezed past her in the narrow hall and dumped his haversack on the polished floor. Turning, he took May in his arms giving her a lingering kiss, the smell of damp wool, Brylcreem and cigarettes wafting up her nose.
His eyes darting along the passageway, he whispered in her ear, ‘How about we vamoose upstairs and say happy new year properly.’
‘Billy! Behave.’
Billy was always after ‘a bit of the other’, and May didn’t see why not. As he said, they were engaged and she could never deny him anything, but timing was difficult. Mam was always about but there was the odd occasion when sneaking upstairs worked out. Yet a weight of guilt plagued May as, whatever Billy said, they still weren’t legally married.
May hadn’t seen or heard a word from him since November and, by rights, she should have been vexed but that wasn’t May’s style. Hers was a love that didn’t ask questions or expect Billy to explain himself. The fact that he loved her at all was enough and she vowed that when they married she’d make him the best wife a man ever had.
Billy opened his eyes to find May staring at him with a faraway gaze.
‘What?’
‘Morning, Billy.’ She bent and smacked him a kiss. ‘I was thinking about after we get married.’
He sat up and stretched. He didn’t want to go down that particular route; it would only lead them to the inevitable ‘when will we get wed, Billy’ scenario. And Billy was happy as they were for now. Maybe sometime in the future he’d want to settle down.
Somewhere downstairs the vacuum continued to whine.
‘What d’you want for breakfast, Billy?’
‘We could… ’
‘No… we couldn’t… not with Mam about. Besides I said I’d help in the house.’
Billy stretched out an arm, slipped a hand beneath her frock and squeezed a firm buttock beneath her knickers.
‘You’re a scoundrel, Billy,’ she arched away. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
‘I could think of a thing or two.’
He retrieved his hand.
‘D’you want fried bread or toast?’
‘Fried, please.’ He stretched. ‘By gum, it was worth the long journey home once in a while to get spoiled.’
Placing his hands behind his head, he laced his fingers and surveyed his surroundings. As soon as he was done with the army, he mused, he’d find them a home away from this mausoleum. Any man worth his salt wanted his own front door. Besides, he couldn’t stand the way May fawned over that kid brother of hers. In Billy’s opinion, the kid was spoilt rotten and needed a kick up the arse. To top the lot, her mother, once an admirer of his, looked at him with such disgust, Billy wondered what crime he’d committed to upset her so. Maybe she suspected what the couple were up to and wanted him to make an honest woman of her daughter.
‘Don’t be long.’ May hovered by the bed. ‘Breakfast will be ready in a jiffy.’
He pulled her down on the leaf-patterned eiderdown.
‘Behave yourself,’ she giggled, but he could tell she enjoyed his roving hands.
‘We’re engaged, May. We’re allowed.’ His voice sounded peeved.
‘Clot. I know.’
‘Not like them that do it in shop doorways, nowadays.’
‘Billy!’
‘Back at the barracks the talk is that since the war started some folk have lost all sense of moral decency. They get up to all kinds of how’s your father in public places.’
‘That’s uncouth, Billy. I don’t want to talk about it.’ She jumped from the bed and smoothed her frock skirt. ‘I must go.’
‘I’ll remember this, May Robinson, the next time you’re gasping for it.’
Billy threw back the bedclothes and, reaching for his khaki trousers hung over the chair, pulled them on and did up the flies.
May passed over his shirt. ‘Don’t be mad, Billy.’
‘Man! Can’t you take a joke?’
‘Sorry.’
‘For gawd’s sake stop being sorry all the time.’
‘Sor—’ May appeared stricken.
Billy strived for a lighter mood. ‘What d’you fancy doing today?’
‘We could help Mam. She needs to change the blackout curtains in the front room for thicker ones. And I don’t want her climbing ladders on her own.’
Jesus. His wife was never happier than playing house and her idea of a grand night was sitting in front of the f
ire listening to the wireless.
‘Then what?’
‘We could take Derek to the park for a walk. He likes the swans on the lake.’
Hells teeth, things were going from bad to worse.
As he watched May leave the room, Billy wondered how he had got himself into this predicament.
It was after his father died, he recollected. Poor sod. After all those years trying to keep in work and out of debt, he couldn’t take the strain.
At the time, Billy hadn’t been able to get his bearings and the heart had gone out of him. Desperate for someone sympathetic to talk to, he had thought of his old girlfriend, May Robinson; the dumbest lass he’d ever known, but also the canniest. With her, there was no need for pretence. He could simply be himself.
His prayers were answered one day when who should be standing over the road from the yard gates, but May. Still mourning his father, sentimentality had got the better of him and he had started courting May, in the hope of making his dad proud. It had taken a war to spur Billy on and propose.
Picking up his cigarettes and matches from the chair, Billy acknowledged that he was a heel not to set a wedding date but now he knew why – he felt hemmed in and wasn’t ready to settle down. He wondered if he’d ever meet his match in a girl?
Meanwhile, he couldn’t bring himself to finish the affair with May because in spite of her neediness, he did love her in his own way.
‘Billy, breakfast’s ready!’ May’s shout came from downstairs.
Billy looked in the full-length mirror. Aye, for now his days of chasing women were over. Though, he told his reflection, that didn’t apply to the nurse he’d met down south. In his book, nurses, especially nurses far away, didn’t count.
He took the stairs two at a time, almost colliding with May at the bottom.
‘I’ve got an idea what we can do this afternoon,’ she said, caginess in her eyes. ‘How about I take you to meet my good friend Dorothy Makepeace…You know, the one I’ve told you about. You’ll like her, I promise.’
Billy had the distinct impression he was being shown off. But it was better by far than helping to hang curtains or babysitting a snotty-nosed kid.
Where was the harm?
Sunday was a lingering sort of day, spent drowsing in front of the fire. After a dinner of lentil soup made from chicken bones, followed by a baked suet jam pudding, Etty lounged on the couch, appetite satisfied.
Dorothy appeared behind her from the scullery, handing her a cup of chicory coffee. Coffee wasn’t officially on ration but was scarce due to other imports being more essential, so folk had to make do with a chicory substitute.
‘I heard an interesting fact while I waited in the queue at the corner shop,’ Dorothy told her sister.
‘What fact?’ Etty took a sip of hot liquid.
‘The woman in front of me said she’d heard that the royal family were issued with ration books too. Apparently, the Royals demanded they shared the same war experience as the British people.’
Etty’s eyes twinkled. ‘Can you imagine, though, His Majesty running out of milk and standing in the queue at the corner shop?’
Dorothy caught on, ‘Wearing his crown.’
They looked at one another, dissolving into fits of laughter.
Etty took control and wiped her eyes, ‘It just shows, though, how fair our system is. No matter how much money you’ve got, the food’s shared out equally and at the same price. Good old Britain.’ She gave a broad smile. ‘That’s why we’ll win this war. We’ve got right on our side.’
Dorothy moved to the alcove cupboard door. ‘Talking about sharing…’ she said, bringing out a bar of milk chocolate. ‘A present from Laurie on his last leave.’ She snapped off a few squares and handed them to her sister.
‘You don’t get this at Blakely,’ Etty grinned.
The saying had become a joke, uttered whenever the sisters were indulging in a treat.
A knock came at the front door and they looked at one another, puzzled.
‘The only person I can think of is May,’ Dorothy said.
Etty padded along the cold linoleum floor in the passageway.
There was no denying that May was a sweet-natured lass, but Etty found herself jealous of the friendship she had struck up with Dorothy. She didn’t like to share her sister with anyone except, of course, Laurie, who Etty now considered a brother.
And the way May went on about that fiancé of hers, as if he were God’s gift, wore Etty’s patience thin. Dorothy’s too, she suspected, but her sister was far too considerate to let her irritation show.
Etty opened the front door, startled to see a soldier standing there. Stocky built and handsome, he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. As his compelling gaze roved over her body, they came to meet hers and gleamed in appreciation. There was a sense of familiarity about him, as though – in a different life, perhaps – she’d known him. Something stirred in Etty and she flushed.
‘Blimey!’ The soldier raised his eyebrows. He spoke to someone over his shoulder, saying, ‘You never said your friend was a stunner.’
Unbelievably, May appeared from behind him.
So, this was the famous Billy Buckley. As the realisation hit Etty, the moment of intimacy between them passed, and she felt her hackles rise. The cheek of the man! Blatantly flirting with another woman in front of his fiancée and her, poor soul, didn’t have a clue what he was up to.
‘Clot. This is Etty, Dorothy’s sister.’ She turned towards Etty. ‘I brought Billy to meet the both of you.’
‘How d’you do, Etty.’ He held out his hand, and it seemed churlish not to take it.
‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Buckley.’
His hand was warm and calloused and he stroked her palm with his middle finger. Outraged, Etty withdrew her hand.
His eyes mocked her. ‘It seems like I’ve got off on the wrong footing.’
Perplexed, she ignored him and addressed May. ‘Dorothy thought it might be you. Go on in.’
May led the way and Etty, closing the door, followed Billy. She noticed his swagger when he walked and, to her shame, she observed how his buttocks were tight and firm beneath his khaki trousers.
Etty couldn’t get Billy Buckley out of her mind. She reminded herself that he was May Robinson’s fella and strictly out of bounds but still the Sunday when she had met him played repeatedly in her mind. The man was a charmer and arrogant with it but – blast him – whenever she thought of those gorgeous, transparent blue eyes, a delicious ache stirred in her groin.
Rather than be subjected to May singing her fiancé’s praises, Etty took a lunch box to work, avoiding the canteen.
The whole thing was ludicrous, she rebuked herself, as she sat alone at her bench eating stodgy Spam sandwiches made with national bread. She’d only met the man once and here she was mooning in a lovesick fashion. She was in love with the idea of being in love. Really, all she wanted was what Dorothy had. A stable marriage with someone who cherished her. Thoughts of Trevor came to mind. Was he the one? Etty liked him and his handsome swarthy looks made her stomach melt like butter, but something was lacking. He didn’t have charisma, the brazen, magnetic spark Billy Buckley had. Billy’s appeal was more than just good looks, he set her pulse racing. But Billy was already spoken for, she reminded herself, and as such, he didn’t come into the equation.
A couple of days later, having finished work for the day, Etty hurried out of the factory gates. As she tied the knot of her headscarf beneath her chin, she saw him. Billy. He leaned against a lamppost over the road and when he saw Etty, he threw his cigarette to the ground and ambled over.
‘Hiya, bonny lass.’
‘If you’re looking for May, she’ll be out shortly,’ she replied, primly.
‘She won’t. She’s working a late shift.’ A warning bell rang in Etty’s head. ‘Anyways, it’s you I want to see. Since I saw you I can’t get you oot me head.’
His audacity astounded her. To come out with somethi
ng like that, in earshot of others was downright… Etty couldn’t think of a word that aptly described the bloke’s nerve. Equally shocking was the way her heart pounded at his words.
‘Go away,’ she said, through gritted teeth.
The air was damp and she pulled up the collar of her navy waterproof coat and did up the belt. Wordlessly, Billy took her by the arm and, guiding her through the throng of crowds leaving the factory, led her to the far side of the gate where they could be alone. He loosened his vice-like grip and, leaning back, rested his foot against the gate’s stone column. As he gazed at her, Etty experienced that déjà vu feeling again – as if she’d known him before.
She avoided looking at those spectacular eyes and his inviting, soft-looking, plum-coloured lips.
‘Meeting a pretty lass like you makes me want to be fancy free again.’
She gave an impatient shake of the head and made to move.
‘Haway, man, it’s only wishful thinking. How old are you… seventeen-ish? Anyways I’m years older than you and I should have more sense.’
With his roguish good looks and rascally charm, Billy was a clever dick, but he’d met his match in Etty. She fancied him all right, but as far as she was concerned, that was where it ended.
‘Leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you.’
He took a slim packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. Lighting one with a match, he took a deep drag and, exhaling a curl of smoke, he laughed.
‘Your face darkens when you get mad.’
‘It’s not funny.’
‘Neither it is, but I can’t help what you do to me.’
‘That’s it. I’m going.’
‘Can I see you again on me next leave?’
‘Will you get it into your thick head? I’m not interested. You’re engaged!’
‘Ahh! You do fancy me, then. It’s only the fact I’m “betrothed” to another that bothers you.’
‘Only, indeed! Anyway, I’ve got a steady boyfriend.’
‘I know… Trevor Milne.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I asked May.’
The Orphan Sisters: An Utterly Heartbreaking and Gripping World War 2 Historical Novel Page 12
