The gall of the man. Etty shook her head in disbelief.
‘You can dee better than that mammy’s boy.’
‘You don’t know anything about Trevor.’
‘He thinks he’s a cut above the rest… so me mates at the yard tell us.’
So, Billy had been asking around.
She looked away, watching the stragglers appear from the gates. Along the street, factory workers had formed a queue at the bus stop. Normally, she would be one of them, with not a care other than getting home and the eternal question of what to have for tea. But now that chance had brought Billy Buckley into her life, she had a hunch that things had irrevocably changed. She wanted him, but she couldn’t have him and Etty wondered if she’d ever feel the same about anyone else again.
Spiritedly, she told him, ‘You know nothing about Trevor! He’s responsible, dependable and––’
‘Boring.’
‘How dare you say such a thing?’
‘I bet it’s true.’
‘Trevor wants us to become engaged.’ There was a ring of defiance in her tone.
‘And will you?’
She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t tell a lie. Her feelings about Trevor were muddled, and meeting Billy had made her more confused because she couldn’t help but make comparisons between the pair of them.
As she stormed off, she called over her shoulder. ‘I told you to leave me alone. My life is no affair of yours.’
After their run-in, Etty didn’t see Billy again and she presumed he’d returned down South. As the weeks wore on, she swung from loathing him to daydreaming about him. She imagined tracing her forefinger over the dimple in his chin, up around his seductive lips, and wondered what it would be like to kiss them. She baulked, though, at the notion of squeezing that rear end of his and, scandalised, vowed to put all thoughts of Billy from her mind.
If only she could.
13
The raids were a regular occurrence now; the siren had gone off last night, and again this morning. Etty had spent the night in the shelter and sleeping had proved difficult, as enemy planes screamed overhead and the distant thuds of bombs penetrated the concrete walls. Then came the heartbreaking sound of ambulances and fire engines, and the toll on human life was unthinkable. To make matters worse, all water, gas mains, electric cables and sewers in the area were damaged.
Dorothy had talked to a neighbour at the door, whose husband worked as a shipwright carpenter at the docks. She reported back that raging fires had caused considerable damage down at the docks as well as to other parts of the town. The word was that the new aircraft carrier at Jarrow was thought to have been the raiders’ objective but no hit had been scored.
Her eyes round with gossip, Dorothy added, ‘Apparently it’s business as usual in the town.’
As she readied herself for work, a surge of pride washed over Etty for the townsfolk. They could lose everything but never their fighting spirit. Incongruous though it may have seemed, with death and destruction all around, Etty had never been happier. Dorothy felt the same and the pair made a pact to feel no shame. Life was balanced on a knife’s edge, and all it took – like the lass at the factory said – was a bomb with your name on it. In the face of such odds, the sisters agreed, life should be lived for every minute.
Accepted now by the lasses at the factory, Etty thrived at work – and if she got bone-tired due to long shifts then so be it. Hers was a pleasant routine and living with Dorothy after the terrors of Blakely was like the rainbow after the storm. Of an evening they sat enthralled, listening to light entertainment on the wireless. There was comedy with Tommy Handley, and when Vera Lynn’s melodious voice rang out in the room singing her signature tune, ‘We’ll Meet Again’, Dorothy’s expression became full of longing. With Laurie’s destroyer somewhere out at sea, she hadn’t heard from him in a long while.
As the sisters listened to plays, swinging big bands and orchestral arrangements, they felt fulfilled, recovering from the years of deprivation at Blakely. If Dorothy ever thought of Mam, she didn’t think to disclose the fact and for that, Etty was eternally grateful.
‘Did I mention May’s fiancé’s home on leave?’ Dorothy called over her shoulder.
It was a surprisingly humid May day and Etty, stifled, had opened the back door. She stood in the scullery rinsing a favourite dirndl skirt through in the sink. Dorothy had the evening off and sat on the scullery step, legs in the yard, darning a hole in the elbow of a cardigan sleeve.
‘Apparently, he’s got a week’s pass.’
The bar of soap Etty held plopped in the water.
Etty hadn’t clapped eyes on Billy since he had waited for her outside the factory. She supposed it had only been a flirtatious episode and that she wouldn’t see him again.
On both counts, she supposed wrong.
The next day, as she left work, the sunlight dazzled her eyes after the dimness on the shop floor, and she shielded them with her hand. She didn’t see Billy at first, not until she was further along the road and he fell in step alongside her.
In the baking heat, the sweaty scent emanating from him should have made her keel over but somehow, because it was Billy, she found the pungent odour curiously arousing.
‘Hiya, bonny lass. Miss me?’
‘I heard you were on leave.’ She kept her gaze ahead.
‘Did you expect us?’
‘No.’
‘But you hoped.’
Billy was incorrigible.
‘Don’t kid yourself.’
‘D’you always play this hard to get?’
‘I’m not playing anything. Remember, you’re engaged to May.’
More is the pity, her mind said.
‘You don’t need to rub it in.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He shrugged.
‘You’ll be telling me next she doesn’t understand you.’ She’d read all about men’s trickery in romantic stories in women’s magazines.
He looked wounded. ‘I would never.’
‘Good.’ She stopped and faced him. ‘Because May’s potty about you.’
‘I know.’
‘Her world revolves around you.’
‘I know that too.’ He gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘I also know she’s a lovely big-hearted lass and deserves better than me.’
They walked, side by side, locked in thought. Up above in a powder blue sky, painted as if by a child’s hand, not a cloud or bird stirred – and it seemed unjust that evil, in the form of enemy planes, should taint such an idyllic landscape.
Etty stopped at the bus stop. ‘This is as far as you go.’
‘Aw! It’s a lovely night I thought I could walk you home.’
‘Goodbye, Billy.’
All next day at work, Etty couldn’t concentrate. She hovered between hoping Billy was waiting at the factory gates and despising herself for the thought.
Her shift finished, she hurried with the rest of workers as they exited the factory gates.
Then she saw him standing at the bus stop, smoking a cigarette.
He caught up and walked beside her.
‘I’d never willingly do anything to hurt May.’ He spoke as if they’d never been apart.
Conscious of the throng around them, Etty hurried along the street.
She hissed. ‘What d’you suppose she’d think if she saw us like this?’
‘We’re not doing anything wrong, just two friends meeting up…’ His smouldering eyes told her something else. ‘Besides, she hasn’t got a jealous bone in her body.’
A thought gnawed at Etty and she couldn’t help but ask. ‘How long have you known each other?’
May once let slip that she and Billy went back a long way and Etty was curious.
‘I’ve known her since schooldays. Why?’
‘No reason.’
‘I met up with her when she was seventeen and we went out for a while.’
Etty, too busy calculating, didn’t commen
t. Derek could be Billy’s son, she reasoned, before discounting the idea. Why would May’s mam bring the kid up? And why hadn’t Billy married her then?
She remembered Dorothy had told her in confidence and besides, she told herself, it was none of her business.
‘Why did you wait such a long time to propose?’
A haunted look flitted across Billy’s face. ‘We met up again after me dad died. The war had just started and I suppose I got carried away. It seemed the thing to do.’
‘Were you close to your dad?’
‘I swore I’d never end up like him.’
‘Why? What did he do?’
‘Bloody fool, had no life. Working at the shipyard, that’s all it amounted to.’
‘He had his family.’
‘Aye… and look where that got him. Because of us he couldn’t walk away.’
An image of a broken man played in Etty’s mind and she felt infinitely sad.
‘Maybe,’ she kept her voice controlled, ‘he loved you too much to… abandon you all.’
She wanted to add, he didn’t dump you in an institution that scarred you for life.
‘More fool him.’
Enraged at his answer, Etty charged ahead.
He hurried to catch up with her. ‘Now what have I said?’
‘I wouldn’t waste my breath telling you.’ Etty let the matter drop, as she might start a full-scale row otherwise. She changed the subject. ‘When d’you plan to marry?’
‘Dunno. I don’t know if I’m cut out for it. Not yet anyways.’
If he wanted sympathy then he’d come to the wrong place.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked him.
‘I wish I knew.’ He looked genuinely bemused. ‘All I know is you’re special. The way you walk, the posh way you talk… how your brown eyes sometimes change to green and have orange flecks in them. Most of all, it’s easy to talk to you.’ He gave a roguish grin. ‘Believe me, conversation is a first with a lass.’
They came to the dank Tyne Dock arches. Halfway through and in the gloom, Billy rested his hand lightly on her arm. A bolt of electricity zipped through Etty. His blue eyes glittered in the dim light and she noted his adorable, jutting chin.
She couldn’t deny Billy’s magnetism and though she’d only known him for such a short while she was falling for him. But he could never be hers, she reminded herself.
‘I wish you were the one I was engaged to.’ His voice echoed around the dripping tunnel. ‘I wouldn’t feel so trapped.’
Etty shivered, not from cold air but from the intensity that shone in his gaze.
The words wrenched from her. ‘Go home Billy, go home to your fiancée.’
Billy didn’t stand at the gates after that – but Etty received a letter from him two weeks later. It was waiting for her behind the front door on the mat when she got home from work.
Hi, bonny lass
I’m lying on my bunk at the barracks thinking about you. I know I’m being a nuisance but I meant it when I said you were special. The thought of you drives me crazy. Honest, I’ve never felt like this about any lass and it’s hard to let you go.
Think on, something like this only happens once in a lifetime. You can’t blame me for trying.
This is just to let you know I’m here if you ever get tired of Mammy’s boy. We’d figure something about May.
Wishing you were mine, Kiddo
Etty didn’t have to think as she knew she could never find happiness at another’s expense.
Besides, she had Trevor.
By September, the nights were drawing in and the rain that threatened all day lashed against the windowpane. Etty checked her watch – quarter to eight. Trevor would be here any minute. He was her steady boyfriend now and though he hadn’t asked again, it was accepted they were officially courting. They saw each other regularly and she felt comfortable enough with him now that she could just be herself. She didn’t think of Billy these days yet her pulse raced whenever May mentioned him. But, she reminded herself, Billy Buckley was firmly in the past.
With Dorothy out visiting friends from the dramatic society, the young couple took the opportunity to spend a night in.
A knock came at the front door and with a final glance at her appearance in the oval-shaped mirror above the range, Etty hurried along the passage, switched off the light and opened the door.
Trevor bundled in. ‘I’m soaked through,’ he said, giving Etty a kiss as he squeezed past. She followed his lanky frame into the dimly lit kitchen.
He shrugged out of his jacket and shook it. ‘Me ma had one of her coughing fits and so I waited till it was over.’
Etty still hadn’t been introduced to the seemingly formidable Ma Milne and neither was she eager for this honour.
Trevor hung his jacket over the back of a chair and, collapsing on the couch, picked up the Gazette and proceeded to read the front page. Etty, sitting beside him, noticed his polished look. His hair was slicked back, his clean-shaven chin had a blob of dried blood on it and his nails were clean of coal dust, buffed until they shone. Affection for him washed over her – he’d made the effort especially for her. Resting her head against his chest, she heard his heartbeat through his grey woollen pullover.
A lad was supposed to take the initiative to start petting, Etty knew, but left to Trevor, their canoodling would never progress beyond a kiss. She didn’t know why, and it was too uncomfortable a question to ask. Was he shy? Or perhaps he was afraid as, like her, he mightn’t have gone beyond a kiss before? Etty was plagued by a mounting fear that because she was raised at Blakely, she might be damaged, unable to feel in that way. She needed to find out.
A coal spat in the fire and, by its warm glow, she undid Trevor’s shirt button. Sliding her hand onto his bare chest, she ran her fingertips through a bush of fluffy black hair. He folded the newspaper and placed it on his knees.
‘That’s nice.’ His voice was husky.
Following her lead, he placed a hand on her breast and teased a nipple beneath the material of her blouse.
Etty upturned her face, surprised by the raw need in his eyes. She strained her neck and his lips touching hers were warm and moist.
They pulled apart.
She asked. ‘Do you want me to undo my blouse buttons?’
‘If you want to. As long as you know I’d never ask you to go the whole way.’
‘I wouldn’t.’
‘I’ve never… tried anything because… I’m worried I get carried away.’
So, that was the reason.
‘I think if we went further than petting, we should have an understanding first.’
Etty stopped fumbling with her buttons. ‘How do you mean?’
‘We should talk about the future.’
‘Is this your idea of a proposal?’
‘It makes sense we team up.’
It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her.
‘Sense?’ She leapt up from the couch.
Trevor looked like a man who didn’t know what he’d said wrong.
‘I mean… you can’t live with your sister forever and it’s time I found a place of me own.’
‘And that’s a reason for us to marry?’
He looked confused. ‘No. It’s just an expressio––’
‘Tell me something, Trevor, d’you love me?’
He stood and towered over her. ‘Course I do. I always have.’ He hesitated while he found the right words. ‘I’m not romantic like in the flicks, Etty… but I do know you’re the one for me.’
He should have left it like that but the silly beggar, taking her silence as a sign he’d won her over, went on. ‘But mind, if we do get engaged we can’t broadcast it until me ma finds out. She won’t be worth living with if we don’t tell her first.’
Alarm bells rang in Etty’s head. She was back at Blakely with the formidable Mistress Knowles.
Rebellion sparked within her. ‘So your mam is going to rule our lives?’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘According to you, we have to ask your mam’s permission for everything.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘What did you say, then?’
‘Look here… me mam’s not a well woman and she can be difficult at times and it’s best we handle her with ca––’
‘Best! For who?’
If Trevor thought she was going to be bullied into submission by his mother, he could think again.
‘There’s no need to shout.’
Mistress Knowles’ hostile eyes swam into Etty’s vision and she was a defenceless child again. As she shivered, old resentments surfacing, she gave herself a mental shake. She reminded herself that life had moved on. No woman would rule her again – and that applied to Trevor’s interfering mother.
‘There’s every need, Trevor.’
‘What’s got into you?’
‘Common sense.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘If you can’t stand up to your mother, then I’m not going to spend a lifetime doing it for you.’
Trevor pursed white lips together in anger.
‘And don’t sulk.’
Etty knew she had riled him but some devilish compulsion urged her on.
‘You’re as bad as me mother,’ he snapped. ‘And for your information, I please Ma to have a bit of peace but like you, she doesn’t have the sense to know when to shut up.’
‘Somebody I know once called you a mammy’s boy… and they were right,’ she retorted.
She watched the hurt cross his gorgeous face and instantly regretted her thoughtless words.
‘What gives you the right to criticize others when it’s blatantly obvious you don’t know a thing about them? You think you’re the only one who suffered a rough childhood? Just get on with it, Etty, like the rest of us.’
Shocked by his words, she reeled. Trevor appeared stunned, looking sheepish as though he wished he could retrieve his words. But it was too late, he’d stirred up a nest of bitterness.
‘Trevor Milne, if that was your attempt at a proposal, forget it. Nothing would make me marry you. And, furthermore, when I do get engaged I’ll tell who I damn well please.’
The Orphan Sisters: An Utterly Heartbreaking and Gripping World War 2 Historical Novel Page 13
