Maggie took an envelope out of her pocket and rushed to Laura, her arms outstretched. “Finally, a letter!”
Laura jolted upright. “Oh my God! Is it Eric? Are they all right?”
Maggie pulled a chair to sit beside her. “The date is very recent!” She took the letter out of the envelope.
Laura’s eyes twinkled when she saw it. “Oh, thank God! Do you think they made it from Dunkirk? Oh, how I wish they have!” She gasped. “Or, do you think they’re still there, waiting for the ships?”
“We’ll have to wait and see, Laura. Let’s pray and hope for the best.” Maggie crossed herself, then cast her eyes heavenwards.
“Can I read it please?”
“Of course.” Maggie handed the tattered piece of paper to her. She let her read all her letters from Eric. It was the one thing that gave Laura comfort these days when it came to her angst over Christian’s safety.
Laura read the short letter hungrily, then took a few moments in silent contemplation, gazing outside the window. The blackout curtains were drawn back, billowing in a soft breeze. Laura cast her eyes upon Maggie for a second, to find her kneeling on the floor talking to Freddie, then looked out the window again.
These days, the Dunkirk evacuation had them both sitting by the wireless all day, as not to miss the slightest snippet from the breaking news. At the time, it was playing a cheerful dance tune. Laura was thankful for her wireless. She’d simply have gone mad spending these endless waking hours in her room without it. The music helped her mind drift away from all that upset her.
The news about the Dunkirk evacuation had brought her relief and hope, like all Britons worrying sick about their loved ones across the Channel. Britain had sent over to Dunkirk all sorts of ships, but not just the Navy vessels. Even little fishing boats had answered the call to head for the French shore, determined to rescue even a handful of British soldiers from the evil grasp of Mr Hitler’s Army.
Brighton’s paddle steamers had been no exception, having been commissioned by the Army to take part in this major rescue operation. The same vessels that once took holidaymakers from the Pier for pleasure cruises, now cruised up and down the Channel, rescuing the troops.
Still lost in her private thoughts, Laura gave a wry smile. She couldn’t help thinking back to that row she had with Christian one day, years ago, on the Pier’s docking station, as they watched passengers board The Brighton Queen. Christian had spoken indignantly of the pleasure vessels, calling them ‘Shilling Sickers’, saying he had no intention whatsoever to ever board them. Tragically enough, nowadays the paddle steamers had proved to be one of his possible lifelines.
She imagined him sitting on the beach in Dunkirk, listening to the crashing of the waves, scanning the horizon desperately for the ‘Shilling Sicker’ that would take him back to safety. The corners of her lips curled up to form a thin smile. Strange how life creeps up on you sometimes, forcing you to change your opinion about things . . .
***
The next day, the girls spent long hours in Laura’s bedroom again listening to the wireless. The breaking news that morning had them reeling with horror. The Brighton Belle had sunk, hit by enemy fire during the evacuation. Just four days later, The Brighton Queen sank too, just off Dunkirk. The girls took to praying for the boys’ safety daily, both at a nearby chapel and inside their hearts all day long. Every day, they waited for news and, by avoiding the subject, tried to stop themselves from going mad with worry. The evacuation soon ended, and the days started to pass slowly, but no letter came.
In early June, Maggie and Ian got married in a tiny, Catholic chapel. It was a closed wedding, witnessed by just a few friends and neighbours, seeing that Maggie had no surviving relatives. The best man was one of Ian’s dancer friends from the Society. Now, they were all out of a job, but it didn’t matter, seeing that the boys were soon going to war.
Maggie and Ian came out of the chapel to be showered by a humble amount of rice and rose petals. The joy in their faces warmed the hearts of the guests, especially as they knew these newlyweds had very little time together before the war would split them apart. After a handful of weeks in Brighton together, Ian would join the Army.
As Laura watched the newlyweds get into the car that would take them to their house for the modest reception, she tried to shake the idea from her mind. Alone, she went back into the chapel to light a candle and offer a prayer in silence for the safety of the troops. Nowadays, having had so much practice, praying came naturally to her. Outside, James waited by the Rolls to drive her to the newlyweds’ house.
Charles hadn’t come with her, and she hadn’t asked him to attend. She didn’t want him by her side and, besides, she couldn’t bring herself to pose as his dotting wife in public any more. They hadn’t had a single private encounter since that night after dinner at Notre Dame. But she was sure he was having all the womanly attentions he desired; she just knew it.
With a bitter smile, she knelt down to pray and thought that his obvious infidelity actually served her well. It meant she didn’t have to worry about any sexual advances on his part, for she wasn’t going to ever let him anywhere near her again. She would remain his prisoner, but this is where she drew the line.
***
Another month passed in a blur of worry for Laura, over Christian’s safety. And then, it was July, and the big day of Freddie’s first birthday was upon her. Laura had been looking forward to it, but dreaded it at the same time because of Charles. By now, he seemed to pretend that the child didn’t even exist. Will he show him a bit of attention, if not tenderness, on the day? Will he give him a present? Thoughts like these twirled in her mind ceaselessly as the day drew near.
As always, Charles avoided Laura and the boy when at home. He and his wife were like similarly charged magnets by now. Their mutual repulsion caused them to leave a room when the other one entered, almost with the urgency of a force of nature. On one of those occasions though, Laura had dared ask Charles if he’d allow a little party for Freddie’s birthday.
Curtly, pretending to be interested in watching Jen as she picked up the plates from the breakfast table, he told Laura to give him a day’s notice as to remember and make sure he wouldn’t be around. Then, he stormed out of the room without as much as throwing her a second glance.
When the big day came, Laura woke her child up and showered him with love, getting him dressed and giving him one of the many presents she’d bought him for the day. She’d guessed by then that Charles wasn’t going to, and so, she went a bit over the top to make up for that.
Later that morning, Laura and Freddie sat in the drawing room dressed to the nines, waiting for their tiny party of friends to arrive. Freddie seemed happy, playing with a dark brown teddy bear that Laura had just given him and didn’t seem to mind his father’s absence at all.
Their guests, Maggie, Paul, and Meg, arrived shortly. After the Army took over the Pier, Paul found a job in a factory and was reluctant to go to war just yet. He was getting a lot of dirty looks from the older men in the street by now, but he didn’t care. He expected there’d be a draft sooner or later, and so, he relished the little time he had left with Meg at home, trying to block the whole world from it, for as long as he still could.
Freddie opened Maggie’s present, and his eyes widened with glee. It was a little train set that she found in an old second-hand shop for a fraction of the price she expected. Freddie didn’t seem to mind it wasn’t brand new, and he set about to play with it on the carpet at once, shrieking with delight as its wheels rolled and squeaked tiredly.
“So, have you been to town recently?” Paul asked Laura.
Laura shook her head. “God, no. I just can't bear the sight of the Pier sealed off like that.”
“And have you seen the promenade? What an ugly sight!” Maggie brought a hand to her chest. “This war has cost us much more than we expected. Oh, our beautiful seafront . . .” she lamented, a deep sadness in her eyes.
Meg nodd
ed in agreement. “Can you imagine? Just under two months ago, we were still able to walk around, comparatively carefree, without these awful, constant reminders of our growing fear. And now, all our beaches are closed off, mined and lined with barbed wire!” Her eyes had grown double in size.
“Indeed, who would have thought?” said Maggie, her voice reduced to a whisper.
“So, how did the cake turn out?” asked Meg after a few awkward moments of silence, eager to say something light-hearted.
Laura gave an enthusiastic smile. “Oh, it looks divine. Jen will bring it out in a minute.”
“Were our rations enough?” Meg and Paul had chosen to contribute for the cake instead of bringing a present. Therefore, they pooled their rations along with Laura’s for this purpose. It had been Meg’s immediate response when Laura confided in her recently that she didn’t want to use her husband’s black market produce for her child’s cake.
Charles had now taken to bringing supplies home. Yet, behind his back, Laura instructed Jen to take most of it to church to be given to poor families. She hoped that would help her redeem herself from her awful burden of guilt. Every time she saw her husband come in laden with bags of food, James trailing behind him carrying even more, she’d remember that young girl who ached at the sight of her dead mother’s jewellery around Laura’s neck.
Laura smiled. “Of course, they were more than enough! With our own, I managed to rustle up quite a little feast for our party! You’ll see for yourselves when Jen brings out the trays. And we’re having none of that horrid black market food on my boy’s birthday,” she added, lifting her chin. Her throat had constricted and, on the last sentence, her voice came out harsh, like steel.
Maggie threw her a sympathetic glance and patted her hand. “Of course.”
Laura exhaled and turned to face Paul. He seemed miles away. “I fear, dear Paul, that this must be tedious for you. Why didn’t you bring a friend over? This way you might not feel as cornered in the midst of women.” She managed a giggle.
Paul gave a little wave and smirked. “It takes more than three women to get me cornered, thank you very much.” Inwards, he wasn’t smiling, though. He thought of all his friends, some in the Army still, some rescued from Dunkirk, some missing. Christian and Eric included. Since the evacuation, the girls hadn’t heard a word. But this day was hardly one to mention such painful subjects. He put an arm around his darling Meg and glanced at the other two women sitting together on the opposite sofa. If he didn’t know, he’d think they were the most carefree in the world. And yet he knew they were sick with worry over the missing boys. Most importantly, Meg had told him all about Laura’s deteriorating marriage.
When Laura glanced back at Paul with an unsure smile, he offered her one of his wide grins to put her at ease. He felt so sorry for her. But she was strong. Clearly, a survivor. He admired her for that.
Just then, Jen came in with the cake. Freddie bolted upright and started to bounce around her. Everyone cheered and clapped. It looked amazing. It was a chocolate cake decorated with hazelnuts and shavings of dark, bitter chocolate over a bed of whipped cream. Maggie and Laura had made it the day before.
Maggie was wonderful with cakes and had done most of the work, including all the shopping for the ingredients. The pooled rations had allowed her to also buy three different kinds of cheese, some ham, and a variety of root vegetables for lunch that would make for a visibly pleasing meal of various colours.
Chapter 4
When the doorbell rang, the party was still underway. By then, Freddie had opened all his presents from his mother, and the four friends were enjoying the first course in the dining room. The cake, having pride of place as a centrepiece, was going to be simply devoured later with tea.
At the sound of the doorbell, Laura’s shoulders stiffened. It can't be! He’s very early.
Beside her, Maggie shuddered. She reached out and patted Laura’s hand without saying a word.
Laura swallowed her last mouthful of ham and leek soup, her lips curling upwards slightly.
Shortly after, Jen appeared at the door. She gave a little curtsy and twisted her lips before speaking. “My lady, his lordship is here and would like a word.” She sounded breathless.
Laura’s heart thumped against her chest. Oh good Lord, what now? She excused herself and followed Jen to the kitchen. Surprised, she found Charles standing there by the large cupboard. She’d never seen him in the kitchen before, and the oddity struck her like a thunderbolt on a sunny day.
Charles fixed her with a stern gaze. “Laura, I asked Jen if I could have the packs of sugar I brought in yesterday. She said I should speak to you. Do you care to enlighten me?”
“Sugar? What would you want with it?” asked Laura, dread rising in her chest. Trying to speak nonchalantly was all she could manage. Yet, she was aware her response was poor, pointless.
Charles exhaled audibly and raised his voice. “I need some of these packets, Laura. I have had a large order today from a big customer, and I am a few packets shy so I want to minimize my shortage. Satisfied? Now, will you point them to me? Then you can return to your little party,” he spat out, his impatience having waned in a matter of seconds.
Laura tipped her chin. There’s nothing for it. “I am sorry, Charles. I don’t have them. I have given them to charity.”
“Charity? Are you insane? I brought them for our family, Laura, not a bunch of strangers!”
“Our family?” she huffed, knowing he had no real perception of such a thing any more.
“How long has this been going on?” Charles’s eyes bore holes into hers. Standing nearby, Jen had turned into a slab of stone. Laura noticed and dismissed her with a silent wave. Visibly relieved to be excused, Jen bolted out of the room.
“Laura!” he thundered to get her attention again.
She raised her chin. “I do not want anything to do with it. You know how I feel about your little business.”
“So you’ve been giving it away? Behind my back!”
“I kept a small amount to be used for the odd meal, just for you. I want none of it. It’s sinful, don’t you see? Taking advantage of people like that!”
“That’s my business, not yours!”
“It becomes my business too when you bring it in the house!”
There was a knock on the open door then, and both of them whipped their heads around in that direction.
Paul stood at the threshold, a mixture of embarrassment and determination on his face. “Laura, Meg and I are leaving. Maggie probably, too.”
Laura took one look at him and knew he hadn’t just come in to announce their departure; he was also making sure she was all right. She forced a smile. “No, please do not leave. I shall join you again in a minute.”
“Are you sure?” When Laura nodded, Paul ventured a glance at Charles, who glared back at him, his face like thunder. Paul felt his right hand itch to land a punch right in the middle of that face. He knew that he’d beaten Laura. But for her sake, he put his hands in his pockets instead and nodded. He pursed his lips and turned around, walking away slowly, his head bent.
“How dare you embarrass me in front of my friends?” Laura put to Charles in a hushed voice when Paul disappeared from view. “And to cause upset today of all days! On Freddie’s first birthday! What kind of a man are you?”
Her eyes conveyed hurt and accusation; the last thing Charles wanted to see. They wreaked havoc with his sense of guilt and insecurity when it came to her. “I am not this child’s father. Therefore, his birthday should have nothing to do with me.”
“Does it bother you so much that you must sling it at me every other day? He is a small child, Charles. He’s innocent. Must you punish him for whatever you have against me?”
“I do not intend to punish him; I can't stand the sight of him, if you must know. He’s the spitting image of that moron you once dated. If the boy’s lucky, he’ll never know who his real father is.”
Laura stared at
Charles, aghast. Where is all this hate coming from? Can't he be happy he tore me apart from Christian? What else does he want?
Charles watched her shocked expression and felt strangely better. With a chuckle, he leered at her and smirked. “That pathetic peasant of yours! I certainly hope he’s gone to war already. Let’s hope he’s rat food in some muddy trench out there right now.”
Laura’s eyes grew huge, her face alight with horror. Her worry over Christian’s safety came flooding out of her heart like water gushing out of a broken dam. It made Charles’s hateful remark unbearable to hear. Anger rose inside her and she lashed at him, pounding with both hands at his chest. “Shut up! Shut up, you filth!”
Charles was quick to take hold of her hands and cross them in front of her, then he pinned her against the cupboard, a slow smile playing on his lips. “You still love him? Is this why you want to leave me? To run back to him?”
“I won't leave you, Charles,” she answered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “I think you made it clear I’m not allowed to ever leave you.”
“You had better mean it! For the sake of that bastard child of yours.” Charles glanced at her smugly and was about to let her go, when someone grabbed him from behind. Charles’s eyes widened with astonishment as he was dragged backwards, away from Laura.
Paul turned him around with one quick move and finally landed that punch where it belonged.
Blood gushed from Charles’s nose. Shocked, he brought a hand to his face and wiped the blood with his shirtsleeve. He tried to strike Paul back but he was quicker. Paul swung away and hit Charles again, this time sending his punishment at the side of his ribs.
Maggie rushed in to put her arms around Laura, who stood shocked, watching the scene. From the dining room, she heard Freddie’s cries and guessed that Meg kept him there with her to save him from witnessing the ugly scene.
Paul grabbed Charles by the shirt and shook him about, his eyes burning like wildfire. “This is enough, you hear, Willard? You are to respect this woman and child, and you’d better be on your best behaviour from now on, or you’ll have to deal with me!”
The Storm Page 2
