Chocolate Girls

by Annie Murray

  ‘I’m a lot more wary these days I can tell you. I seem to attract married men though. There’s one at the depot—’ She stopped herself.

  Edie waited. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know why I even mentioned him. Except I got sent out with him one night. I thought he had an interesting look at first, but he turned out to be moody and full of himself. And what’s more – married.’ She shrugged crossly. ‘Time’s getting on – we’d best get to bed.’ She rearranged the cushion in the chair with a bad-tempered punch. ‘What annoys me is the way he kept looking at me. I mean why can’t men keep their eyes to themselves once they’re married? They ought to know how to behave!’

  1941

  Eighteen

  Good Friday (11 April 1941)

  They thought it was going to be another quiet night but by nine o’clock the sirens were going. Since December, through the winter of bitter cold and deep snow, there had been a lull in the bombing: no more than a few scattered raids. But now they were back.

  In the ambulance depot, Janet and the others looked at each other and there were the usual comments – ‘Here we go—’ and ‘It’s going to be one of those nights.’

  The ambulances were ready outside. Janet waited with the others. Joyce was there that night, and Janet had seen to her discomfort as she came on duty; so was Martin Ferris. They had coincided on precious few occasions over the past months, and she had never been sent out with him again. Every time they met he was friendly and made a point of speaking to her. They were always part of the group waiting in the depot and she had begun to relax with him more amid the light, bantering conversations, though she found something disconcerting about her encounters with him that she couldn’t pin down. He was such a powerful masculine presence, and he did seem to make a point of singling her out, laughing at things she said, attentive in a way which, had he been available, she would have taken for attraction and interest in her. It was the double message she had from him which unsettled her – how dare he behave like this? Now, though, she accepted that this was just how he was. She kept every conversation chatty and impersonal, and because he was bright, interested in life and dedicated to his work, she found she enjoyed his company. He arrived rather late that night, not long before the raid began.

  ‘Evening Janet, Joyce.’ He sat down close to them, laying his hat on the table.

  ‘Hello stranger!’ Joyce said chirpily. ‘We haven’t seen you in a long time.’

  ‘We don’t seem to have coincided. Actually I’ve had to cut down my hours – exams are looming.’ He did look exhausted, dark rings under his eyes. He rubbed his hands over his face and Janet saw that his right index finger was badly bruised under the nail.

  ‘That looks painful,’ she said.

  Martin looked down at his hands. ‘An example of my joinery skills.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I’m left-handed: cack-handed more like.’

  Joyce gave one of her purring laughs. ‘What were you trying to do?’

  ‘Oh, just hang up a picture. Nothing too complicated! Can I get either of you a cup of tea?’

  Janet said she’d like one and when he came back they chatted about his exams.

  ‘I’m living and breathing Gray’s Anatomy at the moment,’ he said wearily. ‘Even dreaming about it sometimes – bones, joints.’

  ‘The thigh bone’s connected to the hip bone,’ Joyce sang.

  Martin gave a faint smile, eyes flickering towards Janet for a second. ‘Precisely.’

  Joyce was in a chatty mood and kept an inconsequential conversation flowing. They weren’t really expecting a raid. But when the time came, Janet found herself detailed to go with Martin to an incident in Small Heath.

  They drove off into the threatening, lit-up night. Janet tried to close her mind to the noise outside. Martin, who was driving, glanced at her in the darkness of the cab.

  ‘If you could go anywhere you liked now, somewhere really nice, where would you go?’

  ‘Well,’ she laughed, grateful for his attempts to distract her. ‘If there was no war on, you mean?’

  ‘Oh yes. Ideal circumstances only permitted!’

  ‘France, I think.’ She talked in short bursts, shouting above the engine. ‘The south of France. Not that I’ve ever been! I went to Paris once, when I was sixteen. But I hear the south is very beautiful. I’d like somewhere warm and lovely to look at.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ Martin looked round again briefly for a moment and she caught a glimpse of a smile.

  ‘Where would you go?’

  While he paused, considering, there came a huge explosion from the distance.

  ‘My God,’ Janet’s voice was shrill. For a moment she was overtaken by panic. ‘Look, the whole place is going up!’

  ‘Don’t think about it.’

  Martin’s voice came calmly out of the shadows. She could just see his profile under the tin hat, the prominent, almost beak-like nose and full lips. The sight of him moved her and she pushed the feelings away. You’re so damn susceptible, she scolded herself.

  ‘Anyway,’ he was saying, ‘I think I’d go to Greece. Back in our ideal world where it doesn’t have German troops crawling all over it. Sunshine, lots of history, warm blue seas.’

  Janet smiled gratefully, steadied by him. Her nerves uncoiled a fraction, though her stomach felt horrible, acidic. ‘I can’t think of anything nicer! Lying in the sun – no air-raid sirens going off – sleeping as long as you like . . .’

  ‘After the war,’ Martin said. ‘One day . . .’

  They skirted the burning centre of the town, swerving round debris and rubble, turning back where a road was blocked by collapsed buildings. They carried casualties from Small Heath. For the next couple of hours there was little conversation except for sharp exchanges and commands, and their attempts to soothe and reassure the injured. Once again Janet was impressed by Martin’s calm, capable manner. She felt she could rely on him completely.

  On the second trip out they tried to drive through the centre of town but the fire brigade flagged them down. No hope of getting through there, they said. New Street was a mass of melting tar from the flames and there was so little water they were having to siphon it out of earlier bomb craters. There was a chaos of explosions and flame, the roads full of rubble, the air thick with smoke and dust. Familiar landmarks were gone, so that in places it was hard to recognize where they were, flames leaping from within the shells of remaining buildings and the firemen struggling on with hoses in the hellish light. As ever the businesses and residents of the central wards of the city were having the worst time of it.

  They were called out again to a central location. By now Janet was so charged up with the activity she was beyond feeling exhaustion. It felt as if the night had been going on for ever, that this was all they would ever do now, keep turning out into the night filled with sound and fire and never sleep. She could feel her face covered with a layer of sweat and thick dust and she took off her specs to give them a quick wipe. Climbing into the van outside the depot, she banged her head, nearly knocking her hat off on the door frame.

  ‘Damn!’ Her eyes were watering.

  ‘You all right?’ Martin asked, as they set off again.

  ‘Yes,’ she said brusquely. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’d say we’re a good team.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed.

  ‘I just hope we’ve got enough juice in the tank for this jaunt. We might have to resort to the petrol can in the back.’

  The call-out was to a residential street, a crammed block of back-to-back houses abutting a factory, where the bottom end of the row had received a direct hit. The impact had brought down the back wall of the works and the far end of the street was a huge heap of rubble. Martin turned the ambulance so they were ready to load up and depart again as soon as possible and the two of them leapt out. Janet saw a stunned huddle of people from nearby houses standing in the road, a woman crying, wrapped in a ragged sheet. Somewhere, a dog was barking fran
tically. Two bodies had been laid on the street.

  ‘Too late for them!’ someone shouted through the confusion as Janet shone her torch on them. They were an elderly man and a girl of about sixteen, faces red with brick dust, nostrils clogged with it.

  ‘Over there!’ The warden shouted. ‘Never mind them, get Mrs Tennant!’ People were round the bombed houses, calling out, trying to pull away the timbers and bricks.

  Janet ran back to help Martin pull the stretchers out of the ambulance.

  ‘The warden’s got her. She’s down there,’ Martin pointed. The warden, a woman in her forties, was bending over a body which lay prone in the road.

  ‘This the only one?’ Martin asked her as they panted up with the stretcher.

  ‘So far. God knows,’ she said desperately. ‘It’s all such a mess. Can’t hear a thing. I wish they’d get back – there’ll be more injuries at this rate.’

  ‘You take her feet,’ Martin said. Janet lifted the woman’s heavy, sagging body. She was half-conscious, moaning with pain.

  As they staggered to the ambulance with the stretcher between them, someone shouted, ‘There’s someone under ’ere – shurrup all of yer!’

  The chances of hearing anything with the raid still going on were very slim. As she and Martin turned from putting the woman in the ambulance, Janet felt a sense of hopelessness sweep through her. How many people might there be alive under the rubble of those houses? They needed a heavy clearance team and there was no knowing how long that would take tonight.

  The residents of the street evidently felt exactly the same and despite the ARP warden’s pleas that they wait for help, had set to, forming a chain to lift the lumps of brick and wood away so far as they could.

  ‘We can’t wait here,’ Martin said. There were more planes approaching. He and Janet were standing together at the back of the ambulance. ‘There’re a couple of women over there with bad cuts – we can . . .’

  He never finished the sentence. They had just begun to move towards the casualties when Janet felt herself lifted up in a great rush, a whoosh of air hoisting her above the ground like a piece of litter. Abruptly the force of it ceased to hold her up and she was dashed down into a hard sea of rubble. Blackness was the last thing she knew.

  It was still black when she came to. She had no idea of time, or where she was. The ground was rocking and she tried to put her hands down each side of her, but pain stabbed like a blade through her left shoulder. With her right hand she felt around her. Something hard, the width of her forearm. Beyond, something – someone. She couldn’t remember anything except setting out that evening in a . . . That was it! She was on a stretcher in an ambulance.

  ‘Martin?’ she tried to say, turning her head to her right where someone was lying beside her. Her voice came out as a croak. Her mouth was horribly dry, coated with dust.

  She tried again and managed to say his name a little louder.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she heard. It was a man’s voice, sounding as cracked as her own.

  ‘It’s . . . Janet . . . Hatton. I’m Janet.’ Perhaps it wasn’t Martin. It could be anyone at all.

  ‘Janet.’ He repeated it, wonderingly, as if to be quite sure. ‘Janet. Janet.’

  ‘Is that you, Martin?’

  ‘Yes. Are you all right?’ She felt him moving, and suddenly sensed he had leaned up to try to look over at her, but it was completely dark.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She found all sorts of things pouring out of her mouth. ‘I don’t quite know who I am. I don’t think Mummy would be very pleased. She’s always been very forgiving though. You’d be amazed what’s she’s like – even over the most terrible things . . . I ought to introduce you one day . . .’ For some reason she started giggling.

  ‘Sssh,’ Martin said. ‘It’s all right. We’re going to hospital.’ She felt his hand reach out in the dark to reassure her. Inadvertently he laid it on her right breast, and hastily moved it down. ‘Don’t worry, dear one,’ she thought she heard him say. ‘Are you in pain?’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Pain.’ As if it was a general condition that she couldn’t pin down. ‘And cold – my hands . . . What about you? How is your little girl? Is she safe? Is she all right?’

  ‘Janet, sssh. I haven’t got a little girl. I’m a student, remember? Just be calm. We’ll be there soon.’

  ‘Poor Martin,’ she said, thinking, how confused he is. He can’t even remember his family! A muzziness filled her head and she felt herself sliding away into sleep. As she did so she felt his hand close around her cold one, and she gripped hold of him. They lay in the shuddering darkness, hand in hand.

  Nineteen

  When, by the morning, Janet hadn’t come home, Frances was white with worry. Edie was reluctantly on the point of leaving for work when there was a knock at the door, and Frances flew to open it. Seeing Joyce on the step, Frances’s hand went to her mouth with an anguished gasp.

  ‘No, it’s all right, Mrs Hatton.’ Joyce looked like a ghost, clothes thick with dust. ‘Janet’s been in a bit of an accident, but she’s going to be perfectly all right. I came to tell you because I knew how worried you’d be. They’ve taken her into Selly Oak Hospital.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Frances steadied herself against the doorframe.

  ‘What happened?’ Edie asked.

  ‘I understand it was a landmine – went off streets away from where they were, and they were caught in the blast. But they’ll both recover.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘She was with Martin Ferris, another of the volunteers.’

  ‘Thank you ever so much for coming,’ Edie said. She saw Frances’s face had turned a sickly colour and she went and took her arm. ‘Come on,’ she said gently. ‘Come and sit down.’

  ‘Here, Edie!’

  Edie felt her arm grasped tightly as she went down for her tea break that morning and turned to find Ruby, looking fit to burst with excitement. Once they were settled with their cups of tea, Ruby leaned forward and hissed across the table, ‘I’ve seen the doctor, yesterday evening. And I’m expecting – I’m going to have Frank’s babby!’

  Edie forced her exhausted features into a smile. ‘Oh Ruby, that’s lovely news. We’ll both have kiddies close in age, won’t we? I’m ever so pleased for you!’ She hugged her, but a moment later she had to suppress a yawn. Ruby sat back with her arms folded, looking very put out.

  ‘Well, you don’t look very pleased.’ She folded her arms sulkily. ‘I’m happy about it, even if you aren’t.’

  ‘Oh, of course I’m happy, Cocoa. I’m ever so pleased for you!’ she apologized. ‘I’m just so tired after sitting in that shelter all night. You awright – not sick or anything?’

  ‘No, I feel all right. So far. Our mom’s over the moon.’

  ‘I bet. That’s lovely.’

  There was a silence. Edie felt a bit sad. There was a bit of distance between herself and Ruby nowadays. She’d become so caught up with the Hattons, with Davey.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’m not very lively today,’ she said. ‘Only I’m so worried about Janet. She didn’t come home last night and she’s in the hospital – got caught up in an explosion. I don’t know how she is yet. Her mom was in a state this morning and what with the raid last night we’ve had no sleep . . .’

  ‘Oh,’ Ruby said flatly. ‘Is she going to be all right?’

  ‘I don’t know. We hope so. Her mate Joyce came over and told us this morning, but I don’t know exactly what’s happened to her yet.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. So I s’pose you’ll be going over there tonight. I was hoping you might come over to ours later – bring David to see our mom. She’s going to be in tonight for once.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ruby – I can’t, not tonight,’ Edie said distractedly. ‘I’ll try to get over another time, but I’ll be going to the hospital. It’s not easy, what with Davey’s bedtime. You can’t just do what you like when you have a babby, Ruby, that’s the thing.’

  ‘No—’
Ruby pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Well, you’ve made that very clear. I don’t need a lecture on the subject.’

  Ruby went back to work feeling hurt and out of sorts. She’d hugged her news to herself since last night, bursting to tell Edie and see her face. Edie had always been her admirer when they were younger, the one who envied her lively family, who wanted to be like her. If she’d had something to tell Edie, she’d always been able to command her rapt attention.

  Now all she’s interested in is darling Janet, and that child. It’s not as if he’s hers! Ruby thought, furiously slamming down another mask. Someone’ll come and take him off her sooner or later and then where will she be?

  At least she had a husband and was having a baby of her own. She couldn’t wait to tell Frank. Things had been going against her lately. Although she was really happy her mom was feeling so much better, Ethel was out gadding about so much now with the ‘Lucky Dip Players’, as they called themselves, that she was hardly in, so Ruby had almost as much to do as she had had when her mom was ill. And Frank’s last leave had been postponed so it was in February, and nowhere near Christmas after all. Then when he came he seemed tired and distracted, and frustrated that they had nowhere of their own to live. They’d fallen out several times. Still, she thought, he’s due home again in a couple of weeks, and now I’ve got summat to tell him that’ll put a smile on his face.

  ‘There’s someone to see you,’ the Sister said, appearing at the foot of Janet’s bed. ‘I shouldn’t really allow this, but he’s very anxious about you.’ She beckoned along the ward. ‘Be quick now, please. Just a few minutes.’

  With her blurred eyesight, Janet saw a tall figure approaching the bed, a dressing-gown over his pyjamas. She tried to sit herself up to put her specs on, but the pain that shot across her collarbone and left shoulder made her cry out. Tears came to her eyes.

  ‘Martin! Oh – ouch!’

  ‘You don’t learn, do you? How are you?’