The War Girls

by Rosie James

  Gladys Matthews smiled. ‘Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ After a moment’s pause, she added, ‘Oh – I nearly forgot, Eileen – something came for you after you’d all gone. The second post was late today. It’s there on the mantelpiece.’

  ‘Oh?’ Eileen said, immediately standing up to pick up the small package. Then she smiled. ‘It’s from Simon – there’s no mistaking his bold handwriting,’ she said.

  ‘Well – what is it?’ Carrie said. ‘Go on, we’re all full of curiosity!’

  Eileen shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Oh, I’ll open it later,’ she said, but Abigail had seen the warm flush that had swept over Eileen’s cheeks. There wasn’t much doubt that she was falling in love with the handsome Simon Hill.

  ‘I thought Simon was an extremely nice young man,’ Gladys Matthews said casually. ‘There was no need for him to have helped us all into the taxi after the party, was there. In fact,’ Eileen’s mother went on, ‘he reminds me quite a lot of Mark, which I suppose isn’t surprising seeing that they live and work together. Still, a little masculine charm from a good-looking man is always acceptable.’

  Abigail shot a glance at Gladys Matthews. That was quite an unusual comment to come from Eileen’s mother, and it proved one thing. She too had really taken to Mark’s best man.

  It was nine-thirty and Carrie yawned briefly. ‘I ought to be going,’ she said, and Abigail suddenly realised that this was the moment she knew she’d been waiting for. Clearing her throat, she said, ‘Look – I’ve been meaning to talk to all of you about something important—’ But Eileen interrupted.

  ‘Oh goodness me,’ she said teasingly, ‘what can this be all about?’

  Abigail spoke up quickly, trying not to let her words come out in a rush. ‘It’s that I think the time is coming when Emily and I should move out and find our feet elsewhere,’ she said. ‘We have been – we are – so comfortable and happy living at number six but we’ve taken advantage of your kindness for too long. I’ve been looking in at Clark’s, and other agents, to see if there is accommodation which we might find acceptable. There are one or two possibilities but I wanted to talk to you about it before I take any action.’

  In the silence that followed, the drop of a pin could be heard. Then Eileen said, ‘What in heaven’s name has brought this on, Abigail? Don’t you like the food – or is the bed not comfortable enough?’

  Gladys Matthews broke in. ‘Wait a minute, Eileen,’ she said. ‘Perhaps Abigail feels the need to break away and live her own life without having to mingle in with ours. We do not own each other,’ she added, ‘and if Abigail really feels the need to be somewhere else then we must respect that.’

  Eileen sat back. ‘Well, I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘It has worked so perfectly all this time for all of us. What’s changed, Abigail? We need to be told that, surely.’

  Abigail steeled herself for the moment she’d been dreading. Her guilt had become too much to bear, and taking a deep breath, she spoke calmly.

  ‘I have told you a great deal about my early life,’ she said, ‘but not all of it. And now I want you to know everything, because you are the best, the dearest, indeed the only friends I have ever had. And when you know it all you will never want to speak to me again. You will want me out of your house, and that is why I think it better for Emily and me to go soon.’

  There was a long pause, then Gladys Matthews said quietly, ‘We are listening, Abigail.’

  Abigail swallowed before going on. ‘Much of what you already know is the truth – Luke is Emily’s father – and he was the only friend I had. I have never known any other man and never will again. I loved him dearly and will go on doing so for the rest of my days. In my heart and in my soul he is my husband, though not by word, because we never married. We were both very young. I was trapped at Coopers, and I have no idea where Luke is now …’ Abigail paused. ‘He never knew that I was going to have Emily, he and his family had moved away before I could tell him.’

  Now the silence in the room was even more painful as, pale-faced, Abigail went on. ‘It was Luke who always impressed on me to escape from Coopers. He told me to have the courage to live my own life, and that I’ve managed to do by the saving grace of the friends I never thought I would ever have.’ Abigail attempted a brave smile at the group listening. ‘But … as soon as we arrived in Bristol, I realised what awaited me – me and Emily. The hateful, dangerous attitude of strangers who judged me as disgusting – because I’d had a child without a wedding ring on my finger. And I also soon realised that, for some men, and for the same reason, I would be “easy” company.’

  Abigail’s shoulders drooped for a moment. ‘My aunt had been right all along. She said I was a disgrace, an evil person, and that Emily was a “bastard child” and that God would never forgive me.’ Abigail shuddered, and after a few moments went on, ‘But then, I thought there was one way out of this. I must pretend to be married. And as if fate had decided it, I found this curtain ring – this pathetic “wedding ring” lying on the toilet floor of Temple Meads.

  ‘Wearing it made me respectable at last.’ Abigail bit her lip hard. ‘But it also made me a liar and I have hated myself for that. And for deceiving you, you of all people, but dishonesty is a terrible trap. Once you’ve started telling lies, there’s no going back. The way out becomes harder and harder … I beg you to try and understand, if not to forgive me.’

  Abigail did not dare look at Gladys Matthews. Eileen’s mother was a lady of high principles, and as a teacher she would have taught her little pupils the difference between right and wrong. That telling lies was wrong.

  Carrie was the first to break the painful silence. ‘And Emily … where was Emily born? I mean, how exactly did you cope alone, Abigail?’

  ‘Emily was born at Coopers with just my aunt there,’ Abigail replied slowly. ‘No doctor or midwife because my sin had to be kept a secret, from everyone. No one could ever know that an illegitimate child existed at Coopers.’

  Carrie moved across to put her arms around Abigail. ‘Well, I can only speak for myself, Abigail,’ she said softly, ‘but I understand your position perfectly. And I will always be your friend, I promise you that.’

  Eileen dabbed at her eyes, and blew her nose. ‘Carrie has said it all, Abigail. What you have told us changes nothing.’

  Gladys Matthews had been deep in thought as she’d listened. Then, before saying anything, she bent to open the bottom drawer of the little table beside her, and took out the small tin which held her spare buttons. Opening it, and with her head bent, she searched for a second or two before holding up something for the others to see.

  ‘I too have a curtain ring very similar to yours, Abigail,’ she said quietly, ‘and I needed it for the same reason. It fitted my finger perfectly at the time,’ she added.

  Eileen leaned forward, frowning. ‘What do you mean, Mother … why did you ever need to wear a curtain ring?’

  ‘Because, well, I was young and foolish,’ Gladys Matthews said. ‘I met my young man at college – though we weren’t studying the same course. And we fell in love with each other straightaway.’ She paused. ‘When these things happen, you just know it, and I was convinced that he was the only one I wanted to be with. But when my parents realised how close we’d become, they were adamant that he was not good enough for me – they were terrible snobs,’ she added, ‘and didn’t approve of his family, insisting that they weren’t “like us”, that you cannot mix oil with water, and that we must end the relationship at once.’

  Gladys Matthews heaved a sigh. ‘It was such a long time ago now,’ she said, ‘but I will never forget it, or how desperate I felt. I could never go against my parents because I was all they had, and they’d given me a good upbringing. I’d wanted for nothing – so long as I toed the family line.’

  Abigail, entranced, now, at the unfolding story, touched Gladys Matthews’ arm gently. ‘So – the curtain ring?’ she enquired. ‘When did you wear it?’

  Eileen�
�s mother closed her eyes for a second. ‘I made up my mind that I would tell my parents there was a special college event which I simply had to attend – it was to be in Hereford and would last a week. They never even queried it,’ Gladys said. Then, ‘Of course there was nothing of the sort. My young man and I were going to have a holiday together … as man and wife. It was to be a farewell to our relationship, because I knew we’d never get married. We were going to a small hotel and he booked our train for first thing on the Saturday morning.’

  Carrie spoke up quietly. ‘So, you wore your “wedding ring” all the time you were away?’ she asked.

  Gladys Matthews shook her head. ‘No, in the end I never actually put it on, Carrie, because during that night my father had a stroke – from which he never recovered. It was completely out of the blue because he was never ill, but he didn’t live to speak another word. And of course my mother was grief-stricken, lost and alone.’

  There was complete silence for a few moments. ‘So, what could I do?’ Gladys went on. ‘One thing was certain and that was there was to be no holiday romance for me after all. And I devoted my life to my mother for the next four – and final – years of her life.’

  Eileen leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder for a moment. ‘That is such a sad story, Mother,’ she said softly, ‘but why have you never told me about it before? Why have you kept it a secret?’

  ‘Because I would have had to admit to the lie I’d been prepared to tell. That I had bought a fake wedding ring – and anyway, I couldn’t see what good it would be to tell you, because as it turned out, it didn’t matter in the end.’

  Still close to her mother, Eileen said, ‘Did you ever see him again – the young man that you were so in love with?’

  Gladys Matthews smiled. ‘Oh yes! Of course I did! Because that young man was your father, Eileen. It just meant that we had to wait a little longer for our dreams to come true, that’s all.’ She turned to Abigail. ‘So you see, Abigail, many of us – perhaps most of us – have told lies of one kind or another. And there are white lies, and black lies. Black lies are those which are meant to hurt, damage or destroy others, but white lies are nothing of the sort. The only person you have hurt by evading the truth as you felt forced to do, is you, yourself, Abigail. You have had to bear the burden alone, all these years, but it is immaterial to the rest of us. We love you, and you and Emily have become an important part of our lives. And what you have told us changes nothing. So – when you feel the time is appropriate, slip that ring from your finger and I will put it here in the tin with mine,’ she said gently.

  Abigail almost wept with relief at the words she was hearing. ‘So – is it all right for us to stay? I mean, you are not ashamed of me?’ she asked hesitantly.

  ‘No more ashamed of you than I am of myself,’ Gladys Matthews said.

  Chapter 32

  December 1942, as most of the months of that year had been, was mercifully free from aerial warfare over the city and, as Christmas approached, preparations for the festive season went on as usual. Homes were decorated and fir trees brought in and there was still just enough food in the shops so that everyone could have their Christmas dinner.

  To Emily’s great delight, school had gone on uninterrupted and on the last day of the term – exactly one week before Christmas Day – Mrs Matthews paused at the gates with other adults exchanging pleasantries about the festive season, and the hope that the New Year would bring good news about the war. Then, all the children came running out excitedly, carrying small presents and bags of sweets they’d been given, and wearing handmade crowns decorated with silver stars. All smiles, Emily ran up to Mrs Matthews.

  ‘Look what I was given from under the Christmas tree, Mrs Gladys!’ Emily said, ‘You can share all this with me in a minute.’

  Gladys Matthews put her arm around Emily’s shoulder. ‘Thank you, Emily,’ she said taking Emily’s little canvas satchel, which she’d recently been taking to school, and placing it in the pushchair along with her own handbag and umbrella, and the four apples she’d bought on her way up earlier.

  ‘It’s a good thing Mummy bought this pushchair, isn’t it, Emily?’ Mrs Matthews said as they turned to leave the gate. ‘Because just look what it can hold – even if it doesn’t hold you anymore!’

  Emily giggled. ‘I would look very silly sitting in it now,’ she said.

  ‘Of course you would – but see how useful it is for me to hold on to. Now, are you going to keep your crown on or would you like to sit it on the top of all the rest?’

  ‘No, I’ll keep it on,’ Emily said, ‘because that’s what everyone else is doing.’

  Just then, someone tapped Gladys Matthews on the shoulder.

  ‘Excuse me,’ the woman said. ‘My name is Helen Andrews and my little girl Jennifer is in the same class as Emily. And I was wondering if I could help you by collecting Emily each afternoon and dropping her off at home.’ She smiled. ‘I see you need to use a stick which must be quite a nuisance.’

  ‘Oh, that’s very kind of you,’ Gladys Matthews began, and the woman went on quickly.

  ‘It would be no trouble for me to make sure that Emily got home safely each day … you see, I often walk behind you. You live in West Road, don’t you, and we live in Tennis Court Road which is just off your end of Broad Walk. So we’re just a few minutes away from each other.’

  This was an unexpected act of kindness and Gladys Matthews hesitated for a moment. ‘I am not related to Emily,’ she began, and the woman raised her eyes.

  ‘Oh, I imagined that you must be Emily’s grandmother,’ she said. ‘She certainly loves you very much!’

  Gladys Matthews smiled. ‘Yes, and I love her very much too – but the fact is she and her mother are staying with us until further notice. As Emily’s mother works in the afternoons it is my happy duty to collect her daughter each day.’

  Helen Andrews nodded. ‘Emily’s mother and I haven’t actually introduced ourselves,’ she said, ‘but we smile at each other at the school gates in the mornings.’ The woman paused. ‘So please do tell her what I have suggested, because I would be very happy to collect her little girl each day.’

  By now, Emily and Jennifer had started comparing what they had left in their bag of sweets, and Emily looked up, tugging Gladys Matthews’ arm.

  ‘Jennifer is my friend, Mrs Gladys,’ she said, ‘but she’s better at sewing than me, aren’t you, Jennifer?’

  Jennifer, unable to speak because her mouth was crammed full of Smarties, merely nodded as she continued to practise hopping on one foot.

  ‘I may very well be taking you up on your kind offer, Mrs Andrews,’ Gladys Matthews said. ‘I will tell Abigail – Abigail Wilson – what you’ve suggested, so shall we speak again next term when school begins again?’

  April 1943

  Abigail sat on the edge of the bed, watching Emily get herself ready to go out. It was Saturday, and this was to be a delayed celebration of Emily’s sixth birthday because, during the early weeks of January and February, she, and nearly all the class, had picked up a flu-type infection which simply would not go away. So it had been decided that when they were both properly better, Emily and Jennifer would go somewhere, just the two of them, instead of having the usual birthday party.

  ‘Birthday parties and playing games are a bit babyish,’ Emily had said one day when the subject was being discussed. ‘And everyone at school has been talking about the film with Tommy Handley – it’s called Time Flies and it’s on at the Odeon. They say it’s really funny.’

  ‘Of course parties and playing “oranges and lemons” are babyish,’ Eileen had said at once, and Carrie had agreed.

  ‘I think it would be really nice for you to go to the cinema, Emily,’ Carrie had said. ‘And I’ll tell you what … I will treat you and Jennifer to afternoon tea at The Berkeley first! How does that sound?’

  Now, after putting on her skirt and jumper, Emily started brushing out her hair and Abigail smiled
briefly. ‘When are you going to let me cut those curls a bit, Emily?’ she asked. ‘Your hair is getting so long!’

  It was true. Emily’s shining, dark-bronze ringlets were nearly down to her waist, but Abigail wasn’t going to say any more because it was hard not to admire her daughter’s appearance. Emily was no longer her little girl, and was unconsciously adopting a more grown-up manner.

  Abigail glanced at her watch. ‘It’s almost time for Mr Andrews to call and take you to The Berkeley,’ she said. ‘It was kind of him to offer to do that, wasn’t it, and to pick you up and bring you home after the pictures.’

  Emily paused before answering. ‘Mr Andrews is nice,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I think he must be a lovely daddy.’

  There was a moment’s silence before Emily went on. ‘Jennifer said her daddy works for the War Office and that’s why he’s only home at weekends. And she asked me where my daddy worked and I said I didn’t know, but that he’d had to go away for a long time and that’s why we never see him.’

  Emily turned to look straight at her mother. ‘But it doesn’t matter, does it, Mummy? That we don’t see my daddy? Because Mrs Gladys says some things just can’t be helped, and that’s all there is to it.’

  Abigail’s stomach dropped as she listened. If only she could tell Emily about her own daddy … and how much he would adore her if he was here.

  Emily turned back to the mirror to finish brushing her hair. ‘It was all right for me to ask little David to come with us as well, wasn’t it, Mummy? He looked so envious when he knew what Jennifer and I were going to do, I just knew I couldn’t leave him out. And when I told Carrie, she said there was a lovely little table for three in the corner of the restaurant.’

  ‘It was perfectly all right to include Jennifer’s little brother,’ Abigail said. ‘It was a kind thing to do.’

  After seeing Emily off in the Andrews’ car, Abigail went back upstairs. At six years old, her daughter had got to the stage where she didn’t particularly enjoy tidying up and now, as usual, there were things to put away.