The War Girls

by Rosie James

  Abigail nodded. ‘That was our very first morning in Bristol, wasn’t it?’

  Eileen hailed a taxi, and soon they were making their way from the centre of the city, up Totterdown Hill and all along the Wells Road, until finally a turning off to the right brought them to a rank of large, imposing terrace houses. They had arrived at number six West Road, Knowle.

  After paying the fare, they got out of the taxi, Emily already full of curious interest as they walked up the short path to the front door. Eileen opened it with her key before ushering Abigail and Emily inside.

  Eileen tapped gently on the door of the first room they came to. ‘Mother, we have visitors,’ she called out. ‘Dinner will be a little bit later today, so I am going to put the kettle on for a cup of coffee. Will you join us in a few minutes?’

  There was a muffled response from inside, and Eileen looked back at Abigail as they made their way through the long hall. ‘As you know, my mother is rather handicapped,’ Eileen said, ‘but I know she wants to meet you.’

  The kitchen was a large, homely room, its square table set against the two windows, and with six chairs alongside. There were full-length cupboards built in against the walls, a huge Indian rug covered most of the floor, and three wicker chairs were placed in the corners. And the tantalising smell coming from the oven made Emily tug her mother’s arm.

  ‘Is it dinner time now?’ she asked eagerly.

  ‘Not quite,’ Eileen said, ‘because there’s time for us to have a cup of coffee before I put the potatoes in to roast.’ She smiled at Emily. ‘Why don’t you help Mummy put all your bags over there in the corner so that no one falls over them.’

  Emily did as she was told, then the door opened and Mrs Matthews appeared, leaning heavily on her two sticks. Eileen immediately pulled a chair out at the table for her mother to sit down next to Abigail who had already been offered a seat.

  ‘Mother, these are our new friends – the ones I told you about who’ve just moved to Bristol,’ Eileen said. ‘Abigail – Mrs Wilson – is Emily’s mummy. And you will be pleased to know that Emily is always a very, very good girl!’

  Mrs Matthews was a heavily built lady with strong features and shrewd blue eyes, her greying hair pulled back and held securely on top with a tortoiseshell clip. She was wearing a formal, navy-blue cotton two-piece, and sensible low-heeled shoes. She turned to greet Abigail graciously.

  ‘I am always happy to meet yet more friends of my daughter’s,’ she said, her voice gentle. Then her gaze switched to Emily. ‘And how old is little Emily?’

  ‘I will be three on my next birthday,’ Emily announced promptly. ‘So I am nearly grown up.’

  Everyone smiled at that, and Mrs Matthews said, ‘And when will that be, Emily?’

  Abigail spoke first. ‘Emily was born on the 1st of February,’ she said. ‘And she has already said that she would like pink icing on her next birthday cake.’

  ‘I should think so too,’ Mrs Matthews said, ‘because everyone should have icing on their birthday cake.’

  Eileen looked across at them both, her eyes misting slightly. She’d known that the little girl would steal her mother’s heart because she’d loved her career teaching small children, and Eileen had also known that her parents had planned to have a much larger family, but it was not to be.

  Presently, as they were enjoying their coffee, and with Emily sipping at a glass of cordial, Mrs Matthews turned to Abigail. ‘So – Eileen tells me that you have recently moved up from the country and have decided to make Bristol your home?’

  Abigail nodded quickly. ‘Yes. It was always an ambition of mine, of ours, to move to where there would be more opportunities for Emily to experience a less rural life. We used to live on a small holding, and I wanted her to be spared the long days of everlasting toil working the land and to live somewhere that might allow her to make something of herself.’ Then, after a moment, desperately trying to avoid saying anything that might incriminate her, Abigail said, ‘It’s unfortunate that my husband can’t be with us yet – he was called away with hardly any notice – but we hope we’ll all be together again before too long.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Bristol had been his idea. I mean, he told me all about the place and thought that we could be happy here.’

  Her hands trembling, Abigail picked up her coffee cup and held it to her lips, trying to hide her flaming cheeks. This lie, these lies, were having to go on and on! But what else could she do? Although it had never been her intention, she’d have to go on saying she was a married woman with a pretend husband.

  Well, now there was no stopping it. Her dishonesty was like a snowball, getting bigger and bigger all the time, and Abigail felt almost sick with unhappiness at the situation she’d got herself into. But not all of it was a lie, she told herself desperately – because it had been Luke who’d told her about Bristol, and had impressed on her that she owed it to herself to break the stranglehold of life at Coopers. And she’d done it, she and Emily were here, but Abigail couldn’t bear having to tell lies to her new friends. Whatever would they think of her if they knew the truth?

  Thinking about Luke for those few seconds made Abigail’s eyes well up and she quickly reached for her hanky, just as Emily came up holding a little picture book and a packet of wax crayons which she’d taken from one of the bags.

  ‘Can I do some colouring now, Mummy?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Perhaps after we’ve laid the table for dinner,’ Abigail said, thankful to stand up to clear away the coffee cups. ‘Look at those beautiful roast potatoes Eileen has just turned in the pan!’

  Mrs Matthews looked over at Emily. ‘Am I allowed to see what you’ve got there, Emily?’ she said, and Emily immediately went over to stand next to Eileen’s mother.

  ‘I’ve got two more of these books,’ Emily said proudly. ‘But they’ve got different pictures – and I haven’t even started them yet! And I’ve got more crayons, and a box of paints because Mummy bought us both new drawing things the other day, didn’t you, Mummy?’

  Mrs Matthews studied the book she was holding. ‘I love doing colouring,’ she said quietly, ‘because it is such a peaceful thing to do, isn’t it?’

  Emily nodded thoughtfully, then, after a moment said, ‘You can do some with me later if you like,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you, Emily,’ Eileen’s mother said.

  Watching the little scene unfold in front of her, Abigail smiled inwardly. This was typical Emily. Ever since they’d arrived at the house, she’d been taking everything in and sizing up Eileen’s mother. Abigail instinctively knew that her daughter had taken to Mrs Matthews.

  Eileen came over. ‘Now, we’re nearly done, and the greens won’t take long, then dinner will be ready,’ she said. ‘Will you stir the mint sauce for me, Emily – it’s over there in that little jug.’

  Always delighted to be given things to do, Emily did as she’d been asked and Mrs Matthews said, ‘Do you like greens, Emily? Cabbage and broccoli and peas?’

  ‘Oh, Emily has always enjoyed her greens – haven’t you, Emily? Especially when she has helped to pick them from the garden herself.’ Abigail added.

  ‘Well, it has obviously done her the world of good,’ Eileen’s mother said, ‘because Emily looks the picture of good health to me.’

  ‘Yes, she is rarely unwell,’ Abigail said.

  There was silence as Eileen’s mother, looking thoughtful for a moment, said, ‘Well, I do hope you are going to be happy – and safe – here in Bristol, Abigail.’ Mrs Matthews threw Abigail a quick glance before adding, ‘If only the country – and the world – would have some sense and refuse to enter yet another war. But’ – she touched Abigail’s hand – ‘in the end, I am sure your little family will be complete again one day.’

  With the table laid, Eileen placed the bowls of vegetables in front of everyone and put the sliced lamb onto their plates. Then she glanced at her mother.

  ‘Oh, by the way, Mother, Abigail and Emily have had to leave their presen
t address in rather a hurry and have nowhere to sleep tonight.’ She passed Mrs Matthews the gravy jug before adding, ‘So they are staying here with us instead. That’s all right, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is more than all right,’ Eileen’s mother said, picking up her knife and fork. ‘It will be an absolute delight to have them stay.’ She smiled at Abigail. ‘This house is far too big for just the two of us.’

  Chapter 14

  After the delicious Sunday roast had been eaten and everything cleared away, Emily got down from the table and went to fetch her books and crayons.

  Just then, the front doorbell rang and Eileen immediately went into the hall to answer it. It was Carrie, holding a prettily wrapped parcel, and she immediately followed Eileen into the kitchen – expressing amazement when she saw Abigail and Emily there.

  ‘Well, how lovely to see you both so soon again!’ Carrie said, going over to kiss the top of Emily’s head. ‘You’ve obviously heard about the delicious Sunday roasts they provide at number six!’ She turned to Eileen’s mother. ‘Anyway, I have brought your new jumper at last, Mrs Matthews – sorry it’s taken me a bit long to finish.’

  Eileen’s mother looked up and smiled as she was handed the parcel. ‘It’s good of you to make it for me, Carrie,’ she said. ‘Now, shall we ask Emily to unwrap it so that we can all admire it?’

  Emily immediately turned to undo the ribbon around the parcel, then took off the tissue paper. And with everyone now standing up to view the garment – a long-sleeved, intricately patterned jumper in a dainty green colour – there was general admiration of Carrie’s handiwork. Eileen bent over to see it more closely.

  ‘You were always better than me at this sort of thing,’ she said. ‘I don’t seem to have the patience. But this is gorgeous, Carrie.’

  ‘It most certainly is,’ Mrs Matthews said. ‘Thank you so much, my dear. Now, you must let me have the bill. I haven’t paid you for the wool yet.’

  Carrie waved a hand. ‘Oh – take it as a little thank you for all the meals you give me,’ she said. She turned to Abigail. ‘I’m always being fed here,’ she said. ‘As soon as I set foot in the door, the kettle’s on and food appears on the table!’

  ‘Oh, go on with you,’ Eileen said. ‘I often eat at your place, you know that. The vicarage has an ever-open door for visitors.’ Though it was true that the girls were more often at number six because Eileen worried that her mother might need her.

  Abigail looked at them both for a moment. It must be wonderful to be so close to someone that their home was like being in your own.

  By now, Emily had returned to her colouring, and Mrs Matthews left the table to go to her room. ‘I won’t be long, Emily, but I must try on this lovely jumper,’ she said.

  After she’d gone, in carefully selected words that Emily wouldn’t catch on to, Eileen briefly explained to Carrie what had happened at number fourteen last night. As expected, Carrie was appalled, shaking her head and mouthing silent words of disgust.

  ‘So,’ Eileen said, ‘Abigail and Emily are going to be staying with us tonight, Carrie. Aren’t we lucky!’

  Hearing her name, Emily glanced up briefly as she selected another colour from her packet of crayons. ‘Will there be a proper bed for us?’ she asked. ‘When Mummy said we had to leave that other house, I thought well – next time, I hope we will have a proper bed.’

  ‘I can assure you, Miss Wilson,’ Eileen said, ruffling Emily’s hair, ‘that there will certainly be a proper bed for you tonight.’

  Presently, Mrs Matthews returned, wearing the new jumper, and Eileen said, ‘Mother – that colour really suits you! It makes you look ten years younger!’

  ‘Well, thank heaven for small mercies,’ Eileen’s mother said. ‘And thank heaven for our very kind and clever Carrie. Now then …’ Mrs Matthews sat down again. ‘Where was I, Emily?’

  ‘You haven’t finished the engine yet,’ Emily said.

  ‘And I think it’s time for a cup of tea,’ Eileen announced, going across to put the kettle on.

  Without looking at Abigail, Mrs Matthews said, ‘Eileen told me that you have been taken on by Blackwell’s, Abigail. A very nice place to work I should think. That shop has been there for many years, and is indispensable to the university students.’

  Abigail nodded. ‘I’m really enjoying my hours there, Mrs Matthews – and you probably know that I also work at Robertson’s a couple of afternoons.’ Abigail smiled. ‘As soon as I left home, I knew that it was vital for me to earn money as soon as possible after our arrival, so I consider myself very lucky. Of course, I had enough money to keep Emily and me going for a time – but I knew I must top it up as soon as I could and I’ve been careful to keep some of my sovereigns in case we hit hard times.’

  ‘Your sovereigns?’ Eileen asked as she poured boiling water into the teapot. ‘I didn’t think those existed anymore. How many have you got?’

  ‘Quite a lot,’ Abigail said, ‘though I did exchange a few at the post office the other day.’

  ‘I have never even seen a sovereign,’ Carrie said, ‘so I’ve no idea what they look like.’

  ‘I’ll show you,’ Abigail said, going over to their bags and rummaging around until she came to the bolero that held the precious purse in its secret pocket. Then she went back and emptied the sovereigns onto the table for the others to see. They gazed in quiet amazement. There were about thirty gold coins lying there in front of them.

  ‘Goodness me,’ Eileen said slowly, ‘where did these come from? Because this is obviously rather a lot of money, Abigail.’

  Thinking that her hosts deserved some explanation, Abigail said quietly, ‘A year or so before he died – when I was about eight or nine – my father gave me these coins and told me to take great care of them because he was sure that one day I was going to need them. He said that he’d always wanted me to have them.’

  Abigail paused, unable to go on. The very mention of her darling dada made her want to weep.

  Still concentrating on what she was doing, Gladys Matthews said, ‘You mentioned, Abigail, that you lived in a very isolated part of the country. What’s the cottage called?’

  ‘Coopers, and apparently it was owned by two brothers who were barrel makers,’ Abigail said. ‘That’s what my father was told.’

  Gladys Matthews nodded. ‘A cooper means barrel maker, of course.’

  ‘Does it?’ Eileen said as she handed around cups of tea. ‘I didn’t realise that. A perfect name for the cottage, then.’

  ‘My father said it was to be our secret – the money, I mean – and I was to tell no one, not even his sister, my aunt, who lived there too. She still does,’ Abigail added.

  Emily, who had been completely engrossed in what she was doing, looked up at Mrs Matthews. ‘Can I borrow the red for a minute, please? I won’t be long with it and then you can have it back.’

  ‘Of course you can, Emily. And I love the green and blue of your umbrellas. You are being so careful not to go outside the lines. Well done.’

  ‘But why was the money – the sovereigns your father gave you – kept from your aunt?’ Eileen wanted to know.

  ‘Because she is very controlling,’ Abigail explained. ‘She always held the purse strings – and Coopers made good money which I never saw anything of, despite working from dawn to dusk. And all my father ever had was what he managed to earn doing casual work elsewhere – he loved building dry stone walls and he was good at it And perhaps he had some army back pay,’ Abigail said. ‘He always gave me money on each of my birthdays, but I never dared ask my aunt for any because I was afraid of her – and I think my father was, too.’ Abigail shrugged sadly. ‘And she never forgave him for joining up to fight in the Great War – during which he was invalided out because of the effects of mustard gas, which he never recovered from,’ Abigail added quietly.

  She looked away, knowing she had to watch what she was telling them – because she knew they would obviously want to know more. Carrie broke the fol
lowing silence.

  ‘But then – then – you met your husband, Abigail?’ she said gently. ‘And everything changed for you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Abigail said carefully. ‘Luke and I had known each other from school, and after I left, I found excuses to go to the village and we were able to meet up, because we both knew that we were always meant to be together.’ Abigail swallowed hard before going on. ‘Luke is the kindest, most thoughtful, most loving person in the world. And whatever happens – you know, for any of us in the future – I will love him with all my heart until the day I die. And I know he will always feel the same about me – wherever he is and whatever he’s having to do – because he gave me his word.’

  No one spoke for a moment after that. ‘Well, I hope there is a Luke somewhere out there for me, one day,’ Eileen said soberly.

  ‘So, he – Luke – was your escape from your aunt at last?’ Carrie suggested.

  ‘Yes – my escape to happiness, and I – we – had Emily very soon afterwards,’ Abigail said, ‘which made me feel the luckiest girl alive.’

  ‘Where did you live – after you were married?’ Carrie said. ‘Surely not at Coopers?’

  Abigail had to think quickly before she answered. ‘Oh no – Luke’s family have a lovely house in the village.’

  Abigail felt her tongue almost stick to the roof of her mouth as she tried not to be caught out by saying the wrong thing, giving herself away. And please, please don’t ask me about the wedding that never was, she implored silently. She could not answer that because it would be a lie too far.

  Abigail felt her shoulders slump as she realised what a web she had woven around herself, without ever meaning to. Had she made a terrible decision in pretending to be married? Wouldn’t it have been better to have braved it out and face up to the consequences of hostility – even hatred – from others? Yes, and to the possible danger to herself and Emily? And as bad as all that might be, could Abigail bear to lose the respect of her new friends? Whatever would Mrs Matthews think when she found out that she had a ‘slut’ and an illegitimate child under her roof?