by Ellie Dean
He dipped his chin, his expression betraying his sadness. ‘Mixing with all those privileged girls changed Mildred, and opened doors to a whole different world that dazzled her. It was inevitable, I suppose, that as time went on she drifted away from us. She spent her holidays at grand country houses or London apartments and took on hoity-toity mannerisms and started talking as if she had a plum in her mouth.’
April could just imagine it, but she said nothing, realising that now Stan had opened up to her, he meant to tell her all he knew.
‘When she did come home she treated Mum and Dad like servants, and refused to have very much to do with me or my pals because she thought we were common oiks. She became demanding and would sulk for days when our parents confessed they simply couldn’t afford the luxuries she’d become used to.’
April could just imagine the heartache that must have caused. ‘She sounds as if she was an absolute horror,’ she murmured. ‘Your poor parents.’
Stan shrugged. ‘They just wanted her to have the education and privileges they’d never had, not realising it would lead to her resenting their lowly status, and perhaps even being embarrassed by them. She never invited her friends to stay, and as time went on she simply didn’t bother to come home at all.’
April tensed as Stan fidgeted in his chair, for she suspected that what was coming wasn’t easy for him. She reached over and clasped his hand. ‘You don’t have to go on if it upsets you,’ she murmured.
‘I’ve kept silent too long, and you’ve earned the right to be told the truth.’ He clasped her hand and took a deep breath. ‘What has your mother told you about her life before you were born, April?’
‘Nothing very much at all. But I understand she went on to college and then university to study law. So she was obviously very bright.’
Stan nodded. ‘She was a clever girl, and to begin with she worked hard and set her goals high.’ His smile was wry. ‘But Mildred wanted it all: a career, a wealthy husband and the sort of life her upper-crust friends enjoyed. She latched onto your father because he fitted the bill, but her studies suffered because of her social life, and at the end of her second year she failed her examinations quite dramatically and was sent down.’
April frowned. ‘So she never actually qualified? Is that why she became a secretary?’
Stan chuckled. ‘I don’t know where you got that idea from. Mildred would never lower herself to be someone’s secretary.’ He looked at her in puzzlement. ‘How come you don’t know any of this, April? Surely one of your parents must have talked to you?’
‘I didn’t think to ask about their lives before I came along – especially after Mother made it so clear she had no wish to discuss it. I just sort of assumed they’d always lived in Tunbridge Wells where my father had his solicitor’s office.’
‘I see.’ Stan fell silent and gazed once more at the garden. ‘Well, there’s a reason why they were both so reluctant to talk about those early years, April.’ He turned to look at her, his expression concerned. ‘But it won’t make pleasant listening. Are you sure you want to know?’
April’s pulse was racing and she was finding it hard to breathe, so she just nodded and steeled herself for what was to come.
‘Your father was a few years older than your mother, and I think he was dazzled by her to the point where, for the first and only time in his life, he allowed his heart to rule his head. He came from a distinguished and wealthy family who numbered Queen’s Counsels and judges amongst their ranks, and I don’t think they approved of Mildred at all.’ He gave a sigh. ‘I think she was regarded as rather flighty, and of course her background was hardly top drawer.’
April remained silent as this entirely different Mildred slowly came to light.
‘Your father was a respected lawyer who was a rising star and expected to be awarded his silk earlier than most. Your mother was a striking girl who’d used her influential friends to get her onto the board of some prestigious arts council, and she too became quite a star in the world of the arts, and was the darling of the society press. She and your father became the golden couple and their society wedding was recorded in most of the newspapers.’
He heaved a regretful sigh. ‘The first I knew about it was when the papers were delivered by the mail train. My parents were dead by then, thank God, so they couldn’t be hurt, but I was cut to the quick.’
‘But that’s awful,’ breathed April. ‘How could she simply ignore her family?’
His expression was grim. ‘The way she did everything – with no thought for others’ feelings.’
‘So what went wrong, Uncle Stan? How did this golden couple with such bright futures end up in Tunbridge Wells?’
Stan hesitated and then rushed on. ‘Your mother had an affair with the head of your father’s chambers.’ April gasped and he gripped her hand in empathy. ‘She was bewitched by this man’s looks, his eminence and his vast wealth. He was a decade older than Mildred, but seemed to have the world at his feet and the key to open doors otherwise closed to her. I’m afraid she found your father dull and pedestrian by contrast.’
April had painful memories of how her mother had never missed an opportunity to snipe at her father and belittle him. ‘Poor Daddy,’ she managed through her tears. ‘How could she do that to him?’
‘Once Mildred set her sights on something she was like a terrier,’ Stan replied bitterly. ‘She was bored with your father even though they lived quite the high life amongst their smart London set. She wanted to experience the glamour and excitement that this man could offer. Unfortunately his wife stood in the way of her ambitions.’
April gasped again. ‘He was married?’ She thought swiftly. ‘So it all had to come to an end,’ she said, ‘and she had to go back to Daddy. Did he know about the affair?’
‘He knew, as did half of London, because Mildred was about as subtle as Wallis Simpson when it came to pursuing her man.’ Stan’s expression was dour as he continued. ‘The affair went on, with this man stringing Mildred along with promises he had no intention of keeping – and then something happened to change everything.’
April found she was holding her breath and she released it with a trembling sigh. ‘Mother got pregnant, didn’t she?’ At his reluctant nod she could only stare at him, unable to ask the question that clamoured in her head.
Stan took a handkerchief from his dressing-gown pocket and wiped his perspiring face. ‘Mildred confessed to me that she didn’t know at first whose baby you were, but she used her pregnancy to pressurise her lover into divorcing his childless wife and marrying her.’
‘That sounds more like the Mildred I know,’ muttered April.
‘Mildred was manipulative and sly and concerned only with what she wanted. It didn’t matter to her whose you were as long as she could use you as a bargaining tool.’
April felt a pang of hurt at this. ‘So, what happened, Uncle Stan?’
His smile was wry. ‘Her lover had an ace up his sleeve that even Mildred couldn’t have predicted.’ He chuckled. ‘You see, despite all his wealth, he’d been born with some condition that made him infertile, and although he’d consulted the best doctors in the world, he had yet to find a cure.’
April burst into tears of relief. ‘So I am Daddy’s after all,’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, thank God, thank God.’
Stan put his arm round her shoulders and waited until the storm was over. ‘I only met your father once, but he seemed to me to be a good man who loved you very much, April, and that is something to cherish.’
‘And I do,’ she replied hoarsely. ‘Just as I treasure you for so willingly opening your heart to me, and reliving those dark memories.’ She drew from his embrace and gathered her thoughts. ‘But there’s more to tell, isn’t there?’
‘Unfortunately, there is,’ he murmured. ‘The man in question wanted nothing more to do with her, but Mildred is vengeful, and she threatened to expose him as a liar and cheat with an unfortunate defect if he didn’t settle a considerable
amount of money on her.’ He grimaced. ‘She’d had high expectations, and was determined to get something out of the affair.’
April was horrified. She’d always known her mother was grasping, but she’d never suspected she could stoop that low. ‘Did he pay?’
Stan’s smile was wry. ‘Not in the way she’d hoped. He called her bluff, you see, and was wealthy and powerful enough to quash any mischief by threatening to sue her for libel and attempted blackmail.’
‘Good for him,’ said April tartly. ‘Though the pair of them sound as if they deserve one another.’
Stan chuckled. ‘I think you’re right, April.’
April giggled. ‘I bet she was seething.’
Stan nodded. ‘She’d certainly met her match, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.’
‘Was that why she and Daddy moved to Tunbridge Wells?’
‘London can be a very small place when rumours start circulating and careers are put in jeopardy. Your father’s position in chambers suddenly became untenable, and Mildred was voted off the board due to the rumours that were now affecting the council’s respectability. Your father decided they needed to leave when it became clear that his career had been stalled by Mildred’s lover, and that their child would be born under a cloud of malicious gossip and speculation. They moved to Tunbridge Wells and he became a suburban solicitor.’
‘And Mother hated every minute of it, didn’t she? She resented me because I was the reason her affair came to an end and she lost not only her lover, but her career and reputation. She was stuck with a baby she hadn’t wanted, and a husband she clearly didn’t love in a town she loathed for its middle-class snobbery. No wonder she couldn’t even bring herself to like me.’
‘I’m sorry, April. I wish I could find the words to make things better for you, but Mildred always had to blame someone else for her misfortune, and nothing will change her now.’
April chewed her lip, thinking of how Mildred’s bitterness had coloured her life and her father’s. ‘But I don’t understand why she didn’t hire a nanny to look after me if that was how she felt. Then at least she could have immersed herself in the snobbish community in Tunbridge Wells.’
Stan shifted in his chair. ‘I don’t know all the ins and outs of it; Mildred didn’t bare her soul entirely to me when she came down with you all those years ago. I think her confidence had been badly shaken, and she didn’t have the heart to start again once she’d left London.’
‘That’s rather sad, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so, considering how much promise she’d shown in her early years. But Mildred was the architect of her own downfall, and it wasn’t fair of her to punish you and your father for it.’
‘I’m surprised she confided in you at all,’ April murmured. ‘She’s never been one to let her feelings show.’
‘It was unusual. But that night she’d been drinking quite heavily, and as I was feeling emotional after losing Barbara, I made some remark about what a lovely little girl you were, and didn’t she realise how lucky she was to have you when Barbara and I had been denied children. I then made the mistake of asking her why she was so cold with you – and that set her off.’
He gave a deep sigh and tears glistened in his eyes. ‘It was quite shocking how the bitterness poured out of her, and I’m afraid I ended up telling her a few harsh home truths. She left the following day, and I haven’t seen her since.’
April kissed his cheek and gripped his hand. ‘But we’ve found each other again,’ she said, ‘and for that I’ll always be thankful. You’ve helped me to understand her now, and funnily enough, I can even empathise with how trapped she must have felt. No wonder she was so furious with me for getting pregnant. Although the circumstances are different, it was history repeating itself – and that must have brought it all back for her.’
‘Aye. I think you could be right. But her anger shows that despite everything she does harbour some feelings for you, April.’
April felt a spark of hope as she thought about that, but it was soon extinguished by cold reality. Mildred’s anger hadn’t come from love, but from fear that her daughter’s disgrace would bring yet another scandal to blight her life.
Stan got to his feet and stretched. ‘Let’s go and find a cup of tea. I’m parched after all that talking.’
April left the hospital a while later to take over at the station from Ron, who had an important Home Guard meeting that evening. Her thoughts were still going over all she’d learned from Stan, and although she felt she knew and understood her mother more clearly now, it saddened her to realise that no matter what the future held, their relationship would never change.
However, there was a part of April that couldn’t help but feel sorry for Mildred, and tears blinded her as she plodded up the hill. Mildred had clearly led a lonely, frustrated life, and although she’d brought it all upon herself, she’d paid a high price. Perhaps a letter might ease things between them – or would it only make it worse? Mildred would know immediately that Stan had told her everything, and therefore he’d be dragged into it all again. And he didn’t deserve that.
April was deep in thought when a great shout went up in the bar of the Crown. Startled, she didn’t have time to get out of the way as the doors slammed back against the wall and a struggling, swearing, fighting group of black and white GIs crashed straight into her.
She was knocked off balance, and as she fought to stay on her feet she was shoved in the back by someone, caught a flying fist in her midriff from someone else, and an elbow in her jaw, which sent her headlong into the road, cracking her head sharply against the unforgiving tarmac.
The fighting men hadn’t noticed. They punched and wrestled, their heavy boots trampling within inches of April’s sprawled body as the skirmish spread into the street and Gloria bellowed at them to stop.
Winded by the punch to her midriff and stunned by the crack to her head, April found she couldn’t move even though a Military Police truck was now hurtling towards her. The men on board clearly hadn’t seen her, for they were fully focused on the brawl.
She tried to shift out of the way, to call out for help. But a terrible weight seemed to be pressing her to the ground, and the punch had stolen her voice. She froze in terror. There was a squeal of brakes and the truck rocked on its chassis, tyres screeching, the driver fighting to get it under control.
But it was going too fast, and looming ever closer. As horrified screams rent the air, April fainted.
Ron had left the station with Harvey in search of his tea before he went to tonight’s Home Guard meeting. April was probably already on her way to relieve him, and he expected to see her coming up the High Street as he crossed the little bridge.
He and Harvey froze as the high-pitched scream rent the air and tyres screeched on tarmac. Ron took in the scene in an instant.
An army truck was skidding out of control and rocking dangerously on its chassis. A group of Yanks were having a set-to nearby, and Gloria Stevens was pushing her way through the melee with fists and elbows to get to the still figure lying right in the path of the truck.
With a whine of concern, Harvey shot down the hill as Gloria stood over the prone figure, arms waving and yelling blue murder. The fighting had come to an abrupt halt and the High Street had turned into a horrified, transfixed tableau.
Galvanised into action, Ron raced after his dog, his fearful gaze taking in the careering truck, the girl on the road and the brave woman resolutely guarding her as the heavy wheels and armoured fender bore down on them.
Harvey was now also standing guard, barking furiously at the truck as the bystanders watched open-mouthed, seemingly incapable of moving.
Ron was running at full pelt down the hill, and he caught up with the truck as it slew to a juddering halt within inches of Gloria’s outstretched hands and Harvey’s nose.
There was a moment of absolute silence but for the ticking of the truck’s hot engine, and then, with admirable ap
lomb, Gloria yelled, ‘Someone get an ambulance. Now.’
Ron could see she was ashen beneath the heavy make-up. Sweat beaded her top lip and her hands were trembling as she dropped to her knees and quickly drew April’s dress over her sprawled legs before gently brushing the girl’s hair from her face.
He pushed a frantic Harvey out of the way, knelt down and searched for April’s pulse in her unresponsive wrist. It was weak and irregular, and the colour had drained from her face, making her look ghastly. ‘She’s still with us,’ he breathed, ‘but only just.’
‘Get that bloody ambulance,’ Gloria yelled to no one in particular. ‘Go on, move yer ruddy arses. As for you,’ she said, looking up at the four American MPs who’d climbed shakily out of their truck. ‘Arrest the lot of ’em,’ she ordered, jerking her thumb at the stunned GIs who still stood dumbly by, ‘and someone fetch blankets.’
Ron could see the dark swell of a bruise on April’s jaw and suspected there were probably others beneath her clothes. ‘What on earth happened, Gloria?’
‘A fight broke out ’cos I were serving them black GIs,’ she snapped. ‘Before I knew it they were outside and April got caught up in it.’ She grabbed the blanket someone had brought and tenderly placed it over April’s swollen belly. ‘Gawd knows what damage’s been done, Ron.’
Very gently, Ron held April’s wrist, once more searching for a pulse, praying his fears would be unfounded. But her pulse was so faint he could barely locate it, and there was a blue tinge to the delicate skin above her lips that didn’t bode at all well. It would be a miracle if she and the baby survived.
30
Peggy was in the middle of packing a supper of Scotch egg, fresh garden salad and two slices of thick bread with a scrape of real butter for April’s tea. She would take it up once the others had eaten and keep her company until the last train had come in, then they could walk home together.
