by Annie Murray
They all looked at each other, struggling to work out the implications of this. The newsreels from the Nazi concentration camps had come to them on the cinema screens – snatches of an unimaginable hell. Was that the fate from which the young woman from Berlin had escaped? Edie felt an immediate, poignant sympathy for her. And who had she left behind in Germany, and what had become of them?
‘Oh, Frances,’ she whispered. ‘How will it help my Davey to know this? Does he need to know?’
After a silence Frances sighed. ‘Yes, darling. In the end, I think he does.’
Thirty-Five
Edie was dreading Janet and Martin leaving for Africa, far more than she could admit to them. She wanted to hold on to every day of the last weeks before they went, but the time spun past, and of course the Ferrises were busy with their preparations. Though she had joked about it at New Year, with all the sudden upheaval among her friends, Edie had suddenly begun to feel stuck and restless, and added to this was her dread of having to speak to David.
The Monday before Janet and Martin were due to leave she walked to work feeling very low. On the Sunday Janet had cooked a lovely joint of roast pork and asked them all over. ‘Not to say goodbye,’ she said tearfully. ‘Definitely au revoir.’ On Saturday they’d board the train to Liverpool, then the boat, to sail all those miles across the water to somewhere impossibly far away that Edie could barely imagine. They’d write, of course they would, but it wasn’t the same at all. She felt that a long, happy phase of her life was ending, irrevocably.
Turning in through the factory gates, amid the other workers coming on shift, her heart sank even further at the thought of Ruby going away to see the Sorensons in July.
Overall on, she made her way to her work station. In this time of change Cadbury’s felt more than ever like her family, the thread of stability in her life, but even at work there had been changes. After the war the extended sugar shortage kept rationing going on and off until only two years ago. There were more new lines, like ‘Fudge’ – a particular favourite of Davey’s – and Edie had worked on some of the ‘Vogue’ chocolates which had gone into the displays for the Coronation, and this was the line she was weighing out today in preparation for packing. She settled herself rather disconsolately into her place on the line, her autumn leaf hair tucked under the white cap. In front of her was a large white scale and beside her the belt with the chocolates in tidy rows, cooled after passing through the enrobing machine which draped the fillings with a warm layer of brown sweetness. She tried to concentrate, but her mind wandered immediately.
Here I am again, day after day. I wonder if I could’ve gone to the grammar school like Davey and gone on to better things? Anyway it was far too late for that. She’d done well in her eleven plus, but Nellie said she wasn’t having her swanning off to the grammar school, demanding posh uniforms and getting above herself. She’d been a bit disappointed, but then she’d gained her place at Cadbury’s and had been very content here, especially when she had Ruby and Janet. They’d been such good pals here for so long. She sighed.
I know Ruby’s only going for a fortnight, she thought, but to America. I’d never even been as far as London until I went with Davey.
Her mouth twitched into a brief smile. He was so fascinated by machines. They’d gone to the Festival of Britain in Birmingham, not London. Aged twelve he’d been the one to lead her round Bingley Hall, completely dismissing some areas of the exhibition and lingering for ages in front of the huge gas turbine and the other machines in the ‘Discovery and Design’ and ‘People at Work’ sections. Seeing his deep delight, the next year she took him to the Motor Show at Earls Court, though for herself she would rather have made the journey to London for the Coronation to wave a flag in the Mall. Instead they watched on a neighbour’s television, with everyone crowded in to see. But now Davey was growing up too – up and away from her. And how much more might he distance himself from her when she found the moment to tell him what she knew about his background? She kept putting it off and, as ever, when this thought occured to her, it seemed to wash over her like a freezing wave.
Saying goodbye to Janet and Martin seemed one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Dr Weller had promised to drive them to the station.
‘I had to think hard what to wear,’ Janet said, pushing her hair back from her face as she checked the catches on her suitcase. She stood up, flushed. ‘I mean I’m wearing my warm coat today but will I need it again? Let alone stockings!’
‘Never mind,’ Frances said. ‘You’ll need it when you come back for visits.’
Edie heard her determination to be cheerful and calm, but she knew that if this was difficult for her, it was infinitely more so for Frances. Robert came round occasionally with his children, but they had nothing like the closeness that she had with Janet.
‘My arms feel like pincushions after all those injections!’ Janet chattered on, trying to cover up her own turmoil of feelings about leaving. ‘And I haven’t been at all sure what to pack: a few shirtwaister dresses and some sensible shoes . . . That sounds rather like a missionary’s wardrobe, doesn’t it?’
‘Well, I suppose you are a missionary,’ Edie said. ‘Sort of.’
‘Yes – but I don’t have to dress like one!’
‘Stalwart underwear,’ Frances said, laughing.
Martin, who had been gathering last-minute things together, came up and put his arm round Janet’s shoulders.
‘Ready?’ he asked softly. ‘Jonathan’s waiting.’
Janet nodded determinedly.
‘It’ll be a tremendous adventure,’ Frances spoke briskly and held her arms out. ‘Goodbye, my love. Write to us as soon as you can. We’ll be dying to hear.’
In her mother’s arms, Janet said moistly, ‘Oh, I will, I will!’
Edie, who didn’t have Frances’s self-control, sobbed as she hugged her friend.
‘I wish you weren’t going, but I hope you have a lovely time all the same.’
‘Oh!’ Janet was crying in earnest now. ‘Edie, I’ll miss you so much! But I know you’ll look after Mummy and that’s a great comfort.’
Edie found herself caught up in Martin’s arms and he kissed her cheek.
‘All the best, Edie.’ He smiled fondly.
‘You look after her,’ Edie sniffed, trying to smile. ‘That’s my best friend you’ve got there!’
‘Oh, I shall – don’t you worry.’
David, awkward with adolescent shyness, was also hugged emotionally by Janet and Martin shook his hand.
‘Bye, old chap – and you take care of your mother now, won’t you?’
And a few moments later, with the suitcases stowed, they were driving off along Valentine Road, waving madly. The car turned slowly right into the Moseley Road and suddenly they were gone. As Edie moved away she saw Frances still staring after them along the street, and knew that her thoughts were travelling with them in the car, to the dock, to the wide blue sea.
And the Cadbury girls were down to two.
It didn’t seem any time before she was waving Ruby goodbye as well, with Marleen and Greta both in a state of high excitement about going on an aeroplane for the first time, and of being spoiled rotten by the Sorensons when they reached America.
‘Greta’s hardly slept the last few nights,’ Ruby told her as they parted outside the factory gates shortly before they left. Ruby was looking very bonny, her plump white arms protruding from a sleeveless summer frock and bright green high-heeled shoes which she’d slipped on after work, along with the lipstick. Edie was struck by how mature she looked. We’re both thirty-four, she thought, but I still look like a girl who hasn’t grown up properly. I know I’ve filled out a little bit, but Rube looks so mature! Fondly, she wished them all a good trip.
‘You going to bring back another nice Yank back with you, eh?’
‘Ooh, I don’t know about that!’ Ruby chuckled, backing off down the road. ‘Don’t know as I’ll have time for that sort of t
hing with the girls around, or my “in-laws”! More’s the pity! See yer, kid!’
‘See yer.’ Edie waved.
She walked off into the warm evening, hearing the carillon ring out its sweet chime in the distance. The sun was setting and the light was soft and golden over Bournville Green. She stopped for a moment, breathing in the scented summer air and smiling fondly at the sight of the Continuation Schools where she and Ruby had begun their working life together. There had been so much laughter and happiness, and yet tonight she felt melancholy. So many years, gone so fast. And those intense years of Davey’s childhood when he had wanted and needed her had slipped away. Now he had long surpassed her, in knowledge and in his understanding of things. He was so intelligent, his teachers said. He should think of going to the university, would be sure to go far.
Far, she thought wistfully. Why does everyone have to go far? Why can’t they be content? I wonder if he’ll have gone so far one day that he’ll never want to see me?
Thirty-Six
The train chugged its way at an unhurried, rocking pace through the Welsh countryside. Outside its windows, the sun appeared dazzlingly every so often between foamy piles of cloud, shining on sheep nibbling the sparse hillside grass. Every so often they stopped at a small country station. They had the compartment to themselves, Edie sitting opposite Frances and David. Frances had begun the journey from Shrewsbury by reading the newspaper, but after they had eaten some of their ham sandwiches and the day grew even warmer, her grip on the paper grew slack and now she was sleeping, leaning on the headrest by the window. She had not woken when the ticket collector slid the door open and asked to see their tickets. Edie looked across at her, feeling protective. In repose, Frances’s face still kept much of its rather noble beauty, but it was undoubtedly slacker, more aged. Her skin had lately acquired a more fragile quality. Edie sometimes felt afraid looking at her. Janet’s departure seemed to have added years to her all of a sudden.
When she turned her gaze away from the window to look at David, though, her emotions altered from tenderness to nervousness and tension. He was oblivious to her looking at him. Nose in a book as usual, she thought. Shutting me out. She tried to see what he was reading but couldn’t make out the title. She didn’t like the uncomfortable, bitter feelings she found in herself sometimes these days. Was she jealous of his books, for goodness sake? It was ridiculous! But so often now he seemed to be walled round by the pages of books, and when he did emerge from behind them he could be so distant and moody, sometimes very sarcastic, when Frances wasn’t within earshot. He was never intentionally rude to Frances. She had always commanded his respect and affection. Edie was most ashamed when she realized that sometimes she was even a bit jealous of Frances. Was it because he knew she wasn’t a blood relation? Why was Davey only so cruel to her, his mother?
What’re you reading? She might ask. A book. What’s it about? Sometimes he would tell her, but more often he would just sigh and say, oh, you wouldn’t really want to know. And the trouble was, he was right, she didn’t really want to know what was in his book, she just wanted him to look up and talk to her.
Edie shifted in her seat. In the distance she saw a man in a cap striding across a field with a dog. She had decided to have a talk to Davey this weekend. They had organized the trip, she and Frances, partly to enable this conversation to happen. Frances thought it might be better done at a distance from home. And with Janet and Ruby away they felt rather desolate and wanted cheering up.
‘We’ll treat ourselves to a weekend at the seaside,’ Frances said. ‘I used to go to Aber when I was a girl – and I went with Robert and Janet once or twice. It’d be nice to see it again.’
They hadn’t heard from Ruby, of course, but there had been several letters from Janet. She wrote to them both with her usual wry cheerfulness, though Edie sensed the homesickness that lay behind her excitement at settling in a new place. She described landing on the west coast of Africa at Matadi, the long train jouney to Leopoldville and then a steamer ride up the Congo River to Stanleyville. The rest of the journey was a boneshaking three hundred miles by truck to the mission station.
‘What an arrival!’ she wrote in her first letter. ‘They had all the schoolchildren out to greet us, playing all sorts of bugles and drums and singing, all dressed up to the nines. My hand was shaken so many times I’m surprised it’s still attached to my arm!’
She loved the place, the tall palm trees and red roads, but in the next letter there was news of constant rain, of suffering from bites and skin infections. And Martin was of course kept very busy.
‘What I need to do first,’ Janet wrote bravely, ‘is work on learning the language. Then I shall feel much more at home.’
Edie hoped so, for her sake, though in a private part of her mind she hoped the venture wouldn’t work and they would come home. She wondered if Frances felt the same.
Within another hour the train eased its way into Aberystwyth station and they climbed out into its long, echoing space. Edie and David carried the luggage out to a taxi and they drove to their guesthouse, one of the tall, pastel-painted terraces along the front facing the sea. As the blue water came into view Frances said, ‘That’s a sight which always lifts the spirits, isn’t it?’ and Edie nodded, truly feeling lighter and happy on seeing the sea stretching away, flecked with white. Even David was smiling.
When they went inside and the landlady took their names, Edie suddenly saw their little party through her eyes and wondered what the busy, grey-haired woman made of them. Frances, stooped yet elegant, with her well modulated voice, Edie, petite, auburn-haired and freckled, and David, lanky, with his dark curling locks. What a funny lot we are, all thrown together Edie thought. She’ll think Frances is my mom and I’m Davey’s – when we don’t share a drop of blood in common!
The guesthouse was terribly clean and neat. Edie and Frances shared a room, with David next door. Edie flung the window open and breathed in deeply. The sun had come out and its light reflected blindingly off the sea. The fresh air and distant cries from the beach filled her with expectation and she felt like jumping up and down like a child. They must go straight down to the beach and paddle! And it was only Friday – they had two whole days ahead of them.
Frances, rolling down her stockings at the edge of the bed, looked hot and tired.
‘Are you all right?’ Edie asked, suddenly concerned.
‘Oh yes – just a little weary. But it’s lovely to be here. I was just thinking – I should bide your time with David. Don’t say anything today. Give him time to unwind as well.’
‘I will,’ Edie was saying, when there was a tap on the door. David’s head appeared.
‘I thought I’d go out,’ he said.
‘I’ll come too!’ Then Edie hesitated. Why was she so nervous of her own son these days? ‘If you don’t mind.’
David shrugged. ‘No. Course not.’
‘I’ll rest for a while first,’ Frances said. ‘You two go along.’
‘Don’t unpack, will you?’ Edie said. ‘I’ll do it when I get back.’
They passed the next twenty-four hours very companion-ably. Edie and David strolled along the beach that first evening, gently dodging the frothy edges of the waves which, on that languid summer day, barely seemed to have the vigour to break on the sand. They looked back at the attractive curving seafront, its hodge-podge of pink, pale blue and yellow houses. At the far end, up the cliff, ran the electric railway. Later the three of them ate a meal of fish together and as the sun went down, strolled out along the front and through some of the winding streets of the town. David walked slightly ahead of them, in his own world, but seeming relaxed and as if he was enjoying the place. They slept in beds with thick, well-stuffed eiderdowns and Edie woke the next morning to the sound of gulls. She stretched her limbs contentedly under the soft covers. If only they could come and live by the sea for ever!
Saturday was almost miraculously hot and fine, though with more of a breeze,
and the waves curled and broke more briskly. They picnicked on the beach, and even went sea bathing. David ventured in first.
‘Come on, Mom!’ he called, jumping about with his arms outstretched, water up to his waist.
Edie watched him from the edge, suddenly longing to go in herself. She was a good swimmer from her training at Cadbury’s, and after all the good times there and at the Rowheath Lido she associated swimming with happiness. Running up the beach she changed under a towel, with Frances’s help, into her old black costume. It looked rather old-fashioned compared with the bikinis some of the young girls on the beach were wearing, but she didn’t care, so long as she could plunge into the water.
‘I’m coming!’ She ran joyfully to the sea. She heard David laughing and saw in his face that he was surprised by her sudden girlishness. Not liking to get into cold water slowly, she kept running, legs slowed by the water, until it was deep enough to plunge in head first. The cold water raked through her hair and she emerged laughing and screaming.
‘Oh my word – it’s cold! But it’s lovely!’
They swam back and forth, playing and splashing, and when they decided to get out Edie felt that she and David were more at one, closer than they had been for a long time. Not wanting to lose it, she said, ‘We’ll get dry, then go and get an ice cream, shall we?’ Eyeing Frances, she added. ‘And maybe go for a little walk?’
They dressed quickly, Edie in a print frock with shells on and David in his short-sleeved shirt and shorts. Unlike Edie, with her mother’s pale Irish complexion, David tanned easily and his skin already had a healthy glow. They fetched ice cream cornets, bringing one back for Frances, who looked nicely settled midway up the beach, and Edie and David set off to walk along the prom.
‘We must go on the railway before we go,’ Edie said. ‘You’d like that. And they say the view’s marvellous.’
