Chocolate Girls

by Annie Murray

  There was a long silence.

  Edie spoke eventually. ‘I wish she’d’ve said.’

  He spat out a bitter laugh. ‘Said? Oh – she’d never’ve told yer. Rather’ve had her tongue cut out.’ He stared at her wasted features. ‘Poor old Nellie. We brought out the worst in each other, that we did. If things’d been different . . . I dunno.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll ’ave to go down for a tick. All that tea . . .’

  All that ale more like, Edie thought as he went to the door.

  Edie sat on, trying to digest all she’d heard. She felt immensely sad and weary. And very uneasy. Had her mother heard all of that? Had he taken some pleasure in revealing her past when she was not in a position to stop him? In the quiet, Nellie stirred suddenly, gave a sharp sigh.

  ‘Mom?’ Edie stood over her immediately. ‘Mom, you all right?’

  There was no reply. Edie saw that her mother’s face had changed. The frown was gone and her features smoothed and relaxed as if massaged by gentle fingers. Edie did not need to check her breathing to be sure.

  When her father came clumping back up the stairs and into the room she was holding her mother’s hand. Gently, she said, ‘She’s gone.’

  Twenty-Eight

  A week after Nellie Marshall’s funeral, Janet sat at her desk in the buying department, fingers flying over the keys of her typewriter. The sun shone in from outside, though more weakly, now the afternoon was waning. It had been a bright March day, and on the way to work she and Edie had enjoyed the sight of clusters of crocuses and daffodils in Bournville Lane just beginning to open in the morning sun.

  She finished the latest order, rolled the paper from the typewriter and sat back for a moment, flexing her aching fingers. She felt tense, coiled inside as if the slightest thing might make her explode. When she and Alec had parted in Corporation Street that Saturday afternoon he’d said, ‘Look Janet – I know this isn’t an ideal situation – for either of us. I only wish things could be different. But I have to say, I miss you like mad.’ As he said that he reached out and touched her cheek. ‘Remember Wednesday night was our night? Well it still could be. I’ll go for a drink in the Midland, usual time, if you want to join me. I’ll leave it up to you.’

  Of course she had not rushed to join him. There had been Edie’s troubles over her mother, and she had no intention of ever seeing him again. Of course she didn’t. But then the notes started arriving. Not many, or with any regularity. Three had arrived now, slipped through the door, since she met him. Frances saw one of them and Janet made an excuse for it. Something about the Bournville tennis club, she’d said. Lies, again. They were short notes. ‘Meet me – please.’ ‘I’ll be there – Wednesdays, as ever . . .’ The latest had come yesterday. ‘I’m waiting for you . . .’ And she just couldn’t seem to get him out of her head, the way he looked at her, eyes full of wistful desire. The disturbing, primitive effect he had on her had not faded completely. He excited her – had done from almost the moment they met. And she needed excitement through all the drabness of the war, single at her age in a house full of children and Martin so very distant. She just wanted a bit of male company. Sometimes life felt so bleak and stifling.

  The ridiculous thing is, she railed to herself as she prepared to begin her new piece of work, amid the ringing of telephones and clacking of other typewriters, that I don’t even like Alec very much. Everything about him is at odds with our morals – he’s a philandering husband, a manipulator! Fancy writing those notes when he knows I’m engaged. How dare he! I shouldn’t want the first thing to do with him. Oh, if only I hadn’t run into him again! Oh, I do wish I could talk about this to Edie, but she’s so straight and honourable, she’d never even think of doing something like this – and she’s got quite enough on her mind.

  Edie had kept all that she’d heard from her father to herself for the days after Nellie died. Janet and Frances came to the funeral with her, and after it, when they got home and David was in bed, she broke down and told them all about it. It was a heartbreaking story, Janet thought. How Mrs Marshall must have loathed herself to be so vicious towards her children. Yet it was one of those tragedies caused by circumstances and not really by anyone’s fault.

  Not like me, she thought. Oh, I must get a grip on myself and not spoil everything for Martin and me – if he’s still alive somewhere. If he still loves me at all . . . Oh Martin, where are you?

  When the day’s work ended it was dark. She set off towards home, but found herself walking past the house, and further on, until she reached the main road and caught a bus into Birmingham. Sitting in her seat, thinking nervously of seeing him, she found herself longing to smoke, even though she had broken the habit long ago. But the situation seemed to demand that she carry cigarettes in her bag. It seemed to turn her into someone else.

  With a sense of disbelief at herself she walked down New Street, her coat collar up, heels clipping along the pavement. Memories filled her mind, almost like being at the pictures watching a show about herself, of the times she’d been with Alec, the intimate drinks together, drives out to the country, the day at the beach. As she neared the hotel she slowed, daring herself to go on. Outside the big doors she stopped. He would be in there, at a corner table, waiting for her, hat on the seat beside him. When he saw her his eyes would follow every line of her, caressing her . . .

  Aware that she must look strange and that a doorman might ask her what she wanted if she dithered any longer, she wrenched herself round and forced herself to walk back up the road towards the bus stop, the tension in her beginning to ease. No! She didn’t want him. Not all that again. Not even if Martin never came home. Not if Alec was the last man on earth. She must have gone out of her mind going anywhere near him again!

  Frances didn’t quiz her as to why she was late home. She often was, stopping to finish work. But she did come into the hall, smiling as she heard Janet arrive.

  ‘Darling – at last. Of course you would have to work late today of all days. Look—’ From under her silky shawl she brought a letter.

  ‘Oh!’ Janet cried. ‘Oh – is it . . .? It’s from Martin!’

  She seized the letter and set off upstairs without taking her coat off. ‘Down in a tick!’

  Sitting on her bed, she tore it open and read it so fast and hungrily! The letter provided the usual combination of hope and anticlimax. He could tell her so little of his whereabouts, his life. But he was alive and in the letter he included his parents’ address in Warwickshire. He didn’t say ‘just in case’ but she knew that was what he meant – it was they, not she, who would be sent any news of him. The letter ended with words of such tenderness that it brought on her tears. ‘My own sweet darling,’ he called her. Oh, the pleasure of it – and the shame, reading his words of love on a day when she had come so close to being disloyal to him! She held the letter to her breast and lay on the bed, weeping with relief and longing.

  Ruby had tried to shut it out of her mind. She’d missed her monthly visitor twice since that night with Wally, the time they’d made love without any precautions. She wouldn’t catch for a babby just from the one time, surely! But two days ago she had woken feeling sick. And there were the other signs, the terrible tiredness, the way certain smells made her feel queasy. She lay in bed, while her mind raced doing calculations. It was February when she must have caught. That meant she’d be having it in – she counted on her fingers – November. Almost exactly three years after Marleen! Oh no, it couldn’t be. Please, let it be a horrible mistake. Let her just be poorly instead! She pushed herself up groggily and sat hugging her rough blanket over her knees, the implications of it all forcing themselves into her mind. It would mean leaving work again, at least for a few months. She’d have to go through the hell of another birth – just the thought of the hospital made her go cold – and all that horrible feeding, and bringing up two children on her own. And what was far, far worse was, she wasn’t married! Everyone knew Frank had been killed. Surely she wouldn’t be able t
o carry on working at Cadbury’s if they knew that! What if she told Wally? Immediately she thought of that leave with Frank, so hurtful and humilating, when she had first been expecting Marleen. If she told Wally now he might take to his heels just like Frank. A man didn’t like that sort of surprise, that was one thing she’d learned the hard way. No – she couldn’t tell him. At least if she kept quiet she’d have him for a few months longer, before it became obvious and he left her anyway. A few tears trickled down her cheeks, but she wiped them angrily away. Where was that going to get her? There was no one to dry her tears: she would just have to get on with it, up and out of bed, get the kettle on for a cuppa.

  The next day she was due to meet Wally. Once again they’d arranged to go dancing. Although Ruby was tired, she felt better by that time of day and she dressed herself up in her green frock and powdered her face to hide the dark circles under her eyes, adding a touch of her brightest red lipstick. She smiled determinedly at her reflection in the mirror.

  ‘Ready for anything, eh, Rube?’

  She was determined to be as happy and loving as possible.

  ‘Here’s my gal!’ Wally greeted her with his usual enthusiasm, flinging his arms round her and kissing her and Ruby was reassured. He was a good man, Wally was. She linked her arm with his and smiled up at him as they stepped into the dance hall, with its smell of floor polish, of sweat and cheap perfume.

  They danced to the fast swing numbers, the colour coming to their cheeks, twirling round one another. Ruby laughed and joked as if she had no cares in the world, kissing Wally amid the clapping and whooping when the music stopped. At the moment she felt as if all her safety and her future depended on him. And she felt so much for him – she did! When a slow waltz number came on and they were gliding round the floor together, she put her lips close to his ear.

  ‘I love you, Wally.’

  He laughed. ‘And I love you too, babe.’

  ‘But I do love you,’ she insisted.

  He drew back and looked at her quizzically. ‘I know you do. Why so serious tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She pulled him close again, not wanting him to look into her eyes. ‘Sometimes I think about the future, that’s all. With the war on we never know from day to day. Wouldn’t you like to settle down and have a family one day, Wally?’

  ‘Sure, course I would. Some day, when all this is over.’

  When she hesitated he drew back to look at her again.

  ‘You’re not trying to tell me something are you, babe? I mean you’re not . . .?’

  ‘No!’ she laughed, pulling him close again. ‘Don’t be daft. I was just thinking, that’s all. I wanted to know how you felt.’

  ‘Right now –’ He pulled her to the side of the dance floor. ‘I feel like a drink. How ’bout you?’

  She looked at his broad back as she followed him to the bar. No, she mustn’t tell him. Not now. It would spoil everything.

  She confided in Edie, who tried hard to persuade her she should tell Frances and Janet.

  ‘I don’t like keeping anything from them,’ she said. ‘And they’re going to have to know sooner or later.’

  ‘No! Not yet. I need time to think what I’m going to do,’ Ruby kept saying.

  ‘Well, you should tell Wally,’ Edie said. She’d only met him once but she had liked him. He seemed honest and kind. ‘He’s a nice man. You could get married. He might be pleased, you never know.’

  But Ruby was not to be persuaded. ‘’E is nice. I think ’e’s a faithful sort, but I’m frightened to death of telling him. I just can’t at the moment, Ede. And what about Cadbury’s? What on earth am I going to tell them?’

  As the spring wore on, Ruby started wearing a ring to work and calling herself Ruby Sorenson. Lightning romances and hurried weddings were nothing all that unusual these days and apart from receiving congratulations and accusations of being a dark horse, this raised very little comment.

  The days became warmer. Trees blossomed. Ruby continued to see Wally whenever he could get away. Several times she came close to telling him, but the pregnancy was barely showing yet and she put it off every time, frightened he would reject her, even though he kept telling her she was his girl and he loved her.

  Men are full of flannel, she thought. He’s all lovey-dovey now, but that could soon turn on its head when he knows there’s a babby coming. Some of the time she was full of fear and anxiety, and at others, when she was with him, she tried to forget and enjoy herself. She wanted everything to be normal.

  But she was soon in for a shock. She met Wally for a night out at the end of May. They walked up Bradford Street to Highgate Park, where the air felt a little cleaner among the trees. Strolling along the path with his arm round her shoulders, Wally said, ‘Look, sugar, you aren’t going to like this, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to see you – least not for a while.’

  Ruby felt his words sink through her like a heavy stone. Her chest tightened. He had guessed, that was what it was! This was his way of getting rid of her. Oh, why did this always happen?

  ‘And why’s that?’ Hurt, her voice came out full of aggression.

  ‘Hey – hey, babe.’ He stopped and took her in his arms as she fought back tears. ‘What’s all this? This isn’t my idea, I can tell you – it’s all beyond my control. You know us Yanks’re here for a reason, don’t you? Well, things are hotting up – we’re confined to barracks after today. Orders – nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘Oh, Wally!’ Ruby wailed. She hid her face in his chest, against the tough serge of his uniform. ‘I can’t stand it. What am I going to do without you?’

  ‘Ruby . . . look at me, Ruby.’ His voice was tender and the seriousness in it made her look up at him.

  ‘Wally,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘I love you. I do. I’m not just out for a good time.’

  ‘And I love you too, babe. You know that. You’re my gal. But I’ll be back – when it’s all over. You’ll love the States – wide open spaces, the big cars, everyone neighbourly. My family’ll love you!’

  Ruby stared at him, unable to speak for a moment.

  ‘D’you mean . . . We could . . .? What – you’d marry me?’

  Wally released her and suddenly she was looking down at him as he dropped on to one knee in the middle of the park. ‘Ruby, my lovely Ruby – will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  Tears ran down her cheeks. ‘I’ve been so worried,’ she cried. ‘I didn’t know if you really wanted me and I’m expecting our babby and I didn’t know what to do!’

  He was on his feet immediately, hands on her shoulders. She saw a muscle twitch in his cheek. ‘Oh, my golly.’ But his tone was awed, not angry. ‘Are you sure?’ He looked down at her. ‘There’s nothing – I can’t see anything.’

  ‘I’m only three months gone – a bit more. You can see if you know. Feel.’

  She took his hand and laid it on her belly. There was a tiny bulge, hard to detect in her already rounded stomach.

  A smile, full of wonder, spread across Wally’s face. ‘Is there really a Sorenson Junior in there? Well I’ll be! Why didn’t you tell me, for heaven’s sakes, Ruby? I mean how does it look if you’re having another baby without a husband? Jeez—’ He stepped back, exasperated, and paced up and down. ‘If you’d said before we could’ve gotten married. I mean I won’t be free after tonight. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I was frightened you’d leave me.’

  ‘Oh, Ruby.’ Once more she was in his arms. ‘Whatever happens, even if we aren’t married yet, we will be, OK? I want you to be Mrs Sorenson of Fairmont, Minnesota, and we’ll settle down in a house close to my folks and raise a family. We’ll have, let’s see, not too many – three children? How d’you like that?’

  Laughing and crying together, Ruby flung her arms round his neck. ‘Oh I like it! I love it – and I love you, Wally Sorenson!’

  Within a very few days the GIs who had not already been moved south left the M
idlands. On 6 June airborne troops preceded the infantry in invading the coast of Normandy. Many of the troops were American, as well as British and Canadians.

  Ruby, Edie and Janet went out to the pictures together one evening. Ruby was more at ease with Edie and Janet now that she’d come clean about her pregnancy and told them she and Wally were as good as married. They tried to be positive and hopeful for her. Frances did point out dryly that as good as married wasn’t the same thing as actually married at all, but she promised Ruby she’d give her any help she could.

  There was a long queue outside the cinema. Ever since the news of the Normandy landings the newspapers had sold out in minutes and everyone listened with total attention to the radio news bulletins. The three of them sat in the smoky picture house, watching the newsreels about the invasion, thousands of men running off the landing ships and on to the French beaches. Edie and Janet sat either side of Ruby and tried to comfort her when she started to cry at the sight of it, and they heard other people sobbing.

  ‘D’you think Wally was there?’ Edie said as they walked to the bus stop afterwards. The light had not yet died. They all wore cotton frocks, cardigans draped loosely over their shoulders, it was so warm. Janet wore her sunflower-yellow dress, Edie’s was mauve with a white collar and Ruby’s pale blue, and dotted with big pink roses.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Ruby had been awed by the Pathé film, really frightened at seeing where Wally might have gone, running from that grey, heaving sea into the gunfire. ‘Oh God, I hope he’s all right.’ It came home to her with great force how much more worried she was for Wally than she ever had been for Frank. She hadn’t ever really loved Frank, not like this, with the tender ache she felt inside for Wally. ‘I understand more what you’ve been going through, Janet. You’ve done nothing but wait, have yer?’

  ‘Sometimes it wells up,’ Janet said. ‘Especially if there’s something in the news. A lot of the time I just feel numb. It’s been so long.’