Shelter From the Storm

by Ellie Dean

  ‘It’s a great pity you didn’t consider the wisdom of your wanton ways before you jumped into some man’s bed,’ Mildred retorted. Her brown eyes flashed with fury. ‘How far gone are you?’

  ‘Four months.’

  ‘Who’s the father?’

  April swallowed nervously. ‘An American GI.’

  ‘Good grief.’ Mildred rolled her eyes and sank into a chair. ‘Have you told him – made him face up to the responsibility and organised some sort of financial help?’

  ‘He doesn’t know,’ April replied. ‘Besides, he’s been posted abroad and I don’t have an address for him.’

  Mildred reached for the cigarette box on the low table. ‘You don’t have the sense you were born with, April,’ she said crossly. ‘A letter to the American army HQ in London would soon find him.’

  April shook her head. ‘He’ll only deny it’s his. And the army will protect him as I can’t prove otherwise.’

  Mildred’s gaze was sharp as she lit a fresh cigarette and blew smoke out impatiently. ‘I hope that doesn’t mean you were spreading your favours about,’ she said coldly. ‘Because if that’s the case, you can leave right this minute.’

  ‘He was the only man I have ever slept with, and I was in love with him,’ April retorted. ‘How dare you suggest otherwise?’

  Mildred gave an exasperated sigh. ‘What a filthy, awful mess you’ve brought to my door. How on earth am I going to explain this to my friends and neighbours?’ She blew another stream of smoke and tapped the cigarette agitatedly against the ashtray.

  April’s head was swimming, the pain and hunger making her feel quite faint. She huddled into the chair, utterly defeated. Her mother was thinking only of herself as usual – and as for any sympathy or understanding . . . Why on earth had she even considered it a possibility? However, it was time to try and mend fences, to pacify her mother and assure her that she was all too aware of how difficult the whole situation was for both of them.

  ‘I’m deeply sorry I’ve brought such shame on you,’ she said quietly, ‘and of course I wouldn’t expect you to let me stay once it becomes obvious that I’m pregnant. But if I could just stay for a few weeks until I can find a job and somewhere else to live, I would really appreciate it.’

  ‘You certainly can’t live here once you start showing,’ said Mildred. ‘As for staying in Tunbridge Wells, that’s out of the question. I have a reputation to uphold in this town, as well as my business interests, and I will not allow you to destroy either.’

  April’s smile was wan. ‘Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll make certain your reputation isn’t sullied in any way by having the baby well away from here. Once it’s born it will be adopted, so you’ll never have to see it or think of it again.’

  ‘Well, at least you’re showing some common sense at last,’ said Mildred with a sniff. ‘It would ruin both our lives if you actually kept it.’ She regarded April coolly. ‘Tell me about this American. Who was he, where did he come from – was he at least an officer?’

  ‘He was a sergeant in a tank regiment, and his home was a ranch in South Carolina.’

  ‘So, the family had money then? Even more reason to get him to pay for the situation he’s left you in.’

  ‘I don’t think the family was rich, even though they had land,’ said April carefully.

  ‘I see. Well, you should still write to the American army people and try to get him to take some responsibility. Times are hard enough, and having you home again will stretch my budget to breaking point.’

  ‘Father left you very comfortably off,’ said April. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t have begrudged me some food and a bed.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but with wartime restrictions, things are rather more difficult to come by.’ Mildred checked the time on her gold watch. ‘My friends are due to arrive in half an hour, so you’d better make yourself scarce.’

  ‘I’ll get something to eat and drink and go to bed,’ said April, relieved that the badgering and dangerous questions had come to an end before things really got out of hand. She could imagine all too well what Mildred’s reaction would be if she discovered that her baby was unlikely to have fair skin and blue eyes.

  She fought the swirling in her head and got to her feet. ‘Have a good evening, Mother,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  13

  Peggy was sitting by the range fire knitting some socks from the wool unravelled from an old sweater of Ron’s that had seen better days at least a decade ago. The socks would go into one of the comfort boxes for the troops who were fighting in the colder climates, and which Peggy now spent most of her time packing during her shifts with the WVS.

  She glanced across at Cordelia who was dozing over her tangled knitting, her spectacles askew on her nose. Poor Cordelia, she thought sadly. There had been no sign of Bertie today, and she knew that Cordelia had been hoping he’d come round to apologise. Yet there hadn’t been a telephone call, or even a note, which to Peggy’s mind just went to prove how badly they’d all misjudged him.

  Queenie stretched out in front of the fire before curling back into a purring ball of fluff. She was getting sturdier, Peggy noticed, and her coat was gleaming, but that poor leg looked more withered than ever. Still, it didn’t seem to stop her getting into mischief, or cause her any pain, so she supposed it was best to just leave it alone.

  The house was quiet, with Fran at the hospital, Ron at the Anchor and Ivy and Rita off with their young men at some fund-raising dance. Sarah was upstairs writing letters to her mother in Australia and to her sister Jane, who had left for goodness knows where to go and break codes or some such thing in great secrecy. Peggy wasn’t entirely sure what Jane was doing, or even where she was living now, but she seemed to be enjoying it, because her letters had been jolly – albeit lacking in any real detail – and she appeared to be making friends.

  Peggy gave a sigh, put down her knitting and rubbed her eyes. The light bulb was so weak she could barely see what she was doing, and it was straining her eyes to the point where she’d started wondering if she might need glasses. She gave up on the knitting, and was thinking about getting up to make a pot of tea when there was a knock at the back door.

  ‘Cooee. Only me,’ called Ethel. ‘I hope we’re not disturbing you?’

  Queenie looked rather bored at the intrusion and went back to sleep.

  ‘Who’s that?’ mumbled Cordelia, her glasses falling into her lap as she was startled awake.

  ‘It’s Ethel and Stan with Ruby,’ said Peggy, getting up to put the kettle on and greet them. ‘Hello. This is a lovely surprise. Come in and get warm.’

  They trooped in and kissed and hugged Peggy, then greeted Cordelia, who was still fuzzy with sleep, and shrugged off their coats and woollen scarves, still so necessary in the chill evenings. Ethel, for once, wasn’t wearing a knotted scarf over her hair, but the minute she sat down she lit a fag and stuck it in the corner of her mouth, where it would stay until it was finished.

  ‘We’re sorry to barge in like this,’ said Stan, putting his hat and a large tin on the table before plumping down on a kitchen chair. ‘But we’ve got a couple of things we need to discuss with you and Cordelia.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Peggy. ‘That sounds a bit ominous.’ She smiled at Ruby, who was looking a bit peaky. ‘What’s the matter, dear? You look as if you’ve lost a bob and found a tanner.’

  Ruby promptly burst into tears and threw herself into Peggy’s arms. ‘It’s Mike,’ she sobbed. ‘He’s, he’s . . .’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Peggy breathed, holding the girl tightly to her, the ready tears threatening.

  ‘He ain’t dead,’ said Ethel in her no-nonsense way. ‘The Canadian army’s sending him up to some island in Scotland.’

  Peggy’s relief was immense, for she loved Ruby. She knew her well from the time Ruby had lived here at Beach View, and she also knew how much the young Canadian meant to her. She gently eased the sobbing girl away from her and tende
rly stroked back her tousled hair before cupping her face. ‘He’ll be all right up there,’ she crooned, ‘and when this horrid old war is over he’ll be back to marry you, you’ll see.’

  Ruby sniffed and knuckled back her tears. ‘I know,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s ever such a long way, and who knows when this flamin’ war will end? What if the army send him back to Canada? I couldn’t bear it if that ’appened.’

  ‘I told ’er to see if she could get permission to go up there after ’im,’ said Ethel around the fag, which now had a tube of ash suspended from it. ‘But Stan looked into it, and she ain’t allowed to travel that far without a proper job waiting for ’er.’ She grimaced. ‘There ain’t nothing but rocks, sheep and birds where ’e’s going, so there’s no chance.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ Peggy soothed Ruby. ‘You probably wouldn’t get to see much of him, and you’d be very lonely up there without your mum and me and all your friends.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Ruby sniffed and twisted the engagement ring on her finger. ‘But it would’ve been worth it if I could’ve seen ’im now and again. It ain’t fair,’ she said crossly. ‘I ’ate the army and Hitler and this bloody war, ’cos all they do is muck everything up!’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Peggy, ‘but there’s nothing we can do about it but soldier on. Why don’t we have a nice cuppa to cheer ourselves up?’

  Ruby nodded and Ethel patted her hand. ‘It ain’t easy for no one,’ she said gruffly. ‘Especially the young ’uns. Flamin’ Hitler. I’d like to knock ’is bleedin’ block off and no mistake.’

  Stan opened the tin he’d brought to reveal Ethel’s famous rock buns. ‘The army could do with more Ethels,’ he said proudly. ‘When she gets her dander up, she can be a holy terror.’

  ‘I certainly wouldn’t want to upset her,’ said Cordelia with a wry smile. ‘But there are times I wish I could be as fierce. There are certain people – mentioning no names – that could do with a good dose of Ethel’s forthrightness.’

  Ethel took the fag out of her mouth, delicately knocked off the ash with the tip of her little finger into the ashtray and then stuck it back between her lips. ‘Blimey, love, you say the word and I’ll put ’em straight, never you mind. Can’t have people upsetting a lovely lady like you, can we?’

  ‘I doubt you’ll get the chance, Ethel,’ Cordelia replied with a grimace, ‘but I’ll bear it in mind.’

  Peggy caught Ethel’s questioning look. ‘It’s a long story,’ she said quietly. ‘And best left until another time.’ She poured out the tea and sat down. ‘So, you two, how’re the wedding plans going? Set a date yet?’

  ‘We didn’t see the point in having a long engagement,’ said Stan, passing the tin of buns round. ‘So we thought we’d get hitched in June.’

  ‘Oh, how lovely,’ sighed Peggy. ‘I do so love a wedding.’

  ‘We’ve been to see the vicar, and he can do it on Saturday the seventeenth,’ said Ethel. ‘So you’d better dust off yer ’at, Peg. It’s gunna be a grand knees-up and no mistake.’

  ‘Which brings us to the reason for our visit,’ said Stan. He wiped the crumbs from his mouth and reached for a second bun. ‘As long as this war lasts, and I’m kept on at the station, I’ll have to live in the railway cottage. So when Ethel and me get married, she’ll be moving in there.’

  ‘We was wondering, Cordelia,’ said Ethel, ‘if you’d mind if Ruby ’ad a friend come and live with ’er in the bungalow. There ain’t the room at the cottage for three of us, and I don’t like the thought of ’er being on ’er own.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ said Cordelia. ‘The rent brings in a nice little income, and I’m pleased the bungalow is being used and looked after so well.’

  ‘That’s all right then,’ said Ethel with a sigh of relief. ‘Only I were worried you might not want no stranger moving in there.’

  Cordelia looked at Ruby. ‘Did you have anyone in mind, dear?’

  ‘Dotty Fairclough. She works with me and Ivy at the aeroplane factory. Ever so nice, she is, and particular about keeping things clean and tidy. She’s in a hostel at the moment and can’t wait to get out, and is quite happy to pay her share of the rent.’

  ‘Bring her round so I can meet her,’ said Cordelia. ‘But I’m sure that if she’s a friend of yours then she’ll suit very well.’

  ‘Thanks, Cordelia. You’re a diamond,’ Ruby said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  Peggy smiled indulgently as Ruby relaxed and sipped her tea. ‘So, Stan. Where are you having the reception? I understand the Crown has a big function room and Gloria lays out a grand spread,’ she teased.

  Stan went puce and Ethel bristled. ‘Don’t talk to me about that woman,’ she snapped. ‘No better than she should be – and from what I’ve ’eard, it ain’t only a grand spread she lays out!’

  ‘Ethel, love,’ murmured Stan. ‘That’s not nice. Gloria isn’t all that bad.’

  Her eyebrows shot up and she took the fag out of her mouth. ‘And ’ow do you know that, Stanley Dawkins?’

  ‘Because I’ve lived in this town all my life, and know more about the people who live in it than anyone – bar Ron, Alf and Fred, of course,’ he added quickly. ‘Show a little kindness, love. She’s just lost her only son, and things aren’t easy for her.’

  Ethel stubbed out the remains of her cigarette and folded her arms. ‘I speak as I find, Stan – always ’ave, and always will. Speaking of which, ’ave you written to that sister of yours to tell ’er about our wedding? Gawd knows, neither of us ’ave much family to speak of, so it’s only right she should be sent an invite.’

  ‘I doubt she’ll come,’ Stan said. ‘We’ve had no contact for years, and getting here could be difficult with all the travelling restrictions.’

  ‘You won’t know ’til you try,’ she said firmly.

  Stan gave a great sigh. ‘I bow to your greater wisdom, my pet, and will write to her as soon as I get home.’

  14

  April had been living at Rosemary Cottage for almost a week when she received a reply from Paula’s father, thanking her for her letter of condolence and the flowers she’d sent for the funeral. He’d clearly been devastated by his daughter’s death, and had been deeply touched by the many letters and cards he’d received from her friends. He expressed regret that April had been unable to attend the funeral because of travel restrictions, but wrote that it had been a quiet service in the local church and she was now at rest with her mother in the graveyard.

  April had carefully placed the letter between the pages of the photograph album in which their friendship had been recorded in a series of black-and-white snapshots, and vowed that one day she would make the journey to that tiny village and say goodbye to her friend properly.

  For now, she had other, more pressing needs to worry about, for although she’d been to the job centre and the housing people, no one seemed to want to hire a pregnant girl with a broken arm, or rent her a room when she had perfectly good accommodation at home. She had run out of options, for her mother refused to contemplate the idea of her staying here until the baby was born, and April was in real dread of what the future might hold.

  It was Easter Sunday and for the first time since the start of the war all the church bells were ringing. She sat on the window seat and leaned out to listen to the joyful sound and feel the warmth of the spring sun on her face. The swelling around her eye had gone down and although the bruising was still visible, at least the pain had gone from her face and hip. And yet it was the deep ache inside that tormented her, for Daniel’s betrayal, her dismissal from the WRNS, Paula’s death, and her mother’s lack of welcome were variations of abandonment and she felt horribly alone and vulnerable.

  She sat there until the last melodic peal of bells fell silent and then began to get dressed for the day. Mildred hadn’t pursued her questions over the baby’s father, or badgered April about contacting the American army to get him to help financially, for which she was very t
hankful. She knew she was on her own in this, and was determined to find some way of coping, but she did wish the atmosphere between her and her mother wasn’t quite so cool, for it would have been an enormous help to be able to really talk to her and learn what was in store as far as having this baby was concerned.

  With a deep sigh of regret, April stood sideways on to the full-length mirror and ran her hand over the swell of her stomach. She was almost five months pregnant and the day was fast approaching when she would no longer be able to hide the fact. Time was rushing by and yet she was in limbo, unable to plan for the future, or think beyond where on earth she could go until her baby was born. And once it was – what then? Returning home was not an option, for Mildred would no doubt make things difficult by constantly reminding her of the shame she’d brought to her door.

  ‘And how will I feel after giving you away?’ she murmured to the mound of her stomach. ‘It’s easy now to think about handing you over – you’re not a real person and I won’t let myself think about loving you. But once you’re here and I see you – what then?’ She plumped down on the bed, the questions whirling in her head, the answers out of reach until that long-off moment came.

  She was startled from her dark thoughts by the sound of the front door slamming. Peeking out of the bedroom window she saw Mrs Stavely and her sister hurrying down the cobbled lane towards the Sunday market. They’d proved to be chatty and full of fun when Mildred wasn’t about, but cowed and almost silent when she was. April felt sorry for them being so far from home and knowing they were unwelcome, and had done her best to help them feel more at home by making tea and offering to help them find their way around the town.

  She finished dressing, struggling a bit to do up the second-hand skirt that only a week before had fitted her perfectly. She desperately needed more clothes, but they cost money and lots of clothing coupons, and as she had very little of either, she’d just have to sew some elastic into the waistband and hope it wouldn’t show beneath the blouse and cardigan.