Chocolate Girls

by Annie Murray

  They strolled along, away from the Electric Cliff Railway, pointing out boats, the antics of a dog barking frantically and running in and out of the sea. All the time Edie could feel the nervous fluttering in her stomach growing worse until she felt sick, and she gave David the last of her ice to finish. They reached the end of the prom and leaned against the railings, looking out over the sea. Edie was glad to see that the only other person close by was an elderly man with a small dog. For a few moments they stood listening to the waves breaking gently against the wall below.

  ‘Look, love—’ Edie turned towards him and her blue eyes met his dark ones. He could hear from her tone that something was different. ‘I need to talk to you. To tell you something.’

  A flash of unease passed across his thin face, then he looked away, down at the water, curls falling over his forehead. She saw his hands grip the rail very tightly, and he was moving restlessly from one foot to the other. ‘What?’ he said.

  At that moment, for all her attempts to rehearse the situation, Edie suddenly had no idea how to work up to what she needed to tell him. She had to remind herself to breathe.

  ‘Davey . . .’ She risked using his baby name and for once he didn’t protest. ‘You’re going to be sixteen soon. You’re nearly grown up. And there are things you need to know.’

  He gave a gruff laugh. ‘You mean about girls?’

  ‘No – well, yes, of course you need to know about all that. But that’s not what I’m talking about . . .’ She took his arm for a moment. ‘This is going to be a shock and there’s nothing I can say that can prevent that. I’ve put it off long enough, God knows, but I’ve got to tell you.’

  She had his full attention now.

  Awkwardly, she began, ‘I love you, David, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ His tone was surly. She knew he was repelled by this opening up of emotions.

  ‘Well – you know your birthday’s November the nineteenth?’

  He frowned. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Another deep, trembling breath. Say it . . . ‘Davey, I don’t know if that is your birthday. I don’t know for sure when you were born.’ He didn’t speak, just stood very still. ‘It was the day you were born for me because it was the day I first saw you. You were given to me, if you like. As it happens, the person who brought you to me was Martin Ferris. He was driving an ambulance that night.’ She explained briefly about the rest centre, about his escape from the bombed house. ‘They think you must have been blown out through one of the windows. It was a miracle you weren’t killed, like everyone else in the house . . .’

  David was shaking his head, as if to throw off her words. He stepped back out of her reach.

  ‘I don’t understand—’ His face creased. He was her little boy again, on the point of tears. ‘You mean you’re not my mom? Is that what you’re saying? So who is? Why’re you telling me . . .? I don’t want to know!’

  ‘Sweetheart . . .’ Oh, this was terrible, worse than she’d feared. Her legs felt liquid, no bones to hold them straight. She forced them to move towards him but he retreated again. ‘Your mother was killed when the house was bombed that night. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. They told me she was a refugee . . . She must have loved you so very much because she came to England to save you and herself.’ She could tell him now: they knew for certain. Frances had talked to a friend of Serena Bowles. ‘The thing is, Davey – she was German. We think she was a German Jew. She came here to escape from Adolf Hitler and all the terrible things his people did to the Jews.’

  He was turning, walking away from her. Not caring who heard now, Edie followed, calling after him.

  ‘But when they brought you to me I loved you so much that I wanted to be your mother. And there was no one else – no one ever came to find you . . . Oh Davey, tell me I’m your mother . . . I’ve been a mother to you, haven’t I? Don’t go! Please don’t . . .’

  But he was already striding off into the distance. She watched his tall, thin figure striding upright and tense as a wire, through the crowds along the seafront until he vanished from view.

  Alone, she turned away to face the sea. He knew now. The magic circle she had built so carefully containing herself and him, devoted mother and son, was broken open. Gone. There might be other people now, to be let in. Even if those people were dead, David belonged to them by the ties of blood. And they might not all be dead. Somewhere, there might be another family for him . . . Leaning on the railing, her body began to shake with deep, wrenching sobs.

  David felt he was going to explode. He strode along the prom, weaving in a fury between the leisurely Saturday afternoon trippers, wanting them all to vanish out of his way. What did they know about anything, ambling along, licking their ice creams! He was smouldering, bubbling up under the surface, almost ready to hit out at people who got in his way. Not knowing where he was heading, he walked on and on, needing to expend the burning energy which seemed to roar in his veins. It did not take him long to reach the far end of the prom, near the entrance to the electric railway. He stopped for a moment, then headed for the path which twisted up the steep hill in front of him. He didn’t want to ride, he needed to climb! He almost threw himself at the incline, gaining some small satisfaction from the hard pull on his muscles and the pumping of his heart and lungs. Some walkers coming down the other way looked at him in surprise as he tore upwards, hitting out at the tough coastal grasses and plants when they brushed against his shins.

  I’m not your mother . . . I’m not your mother . . . The words battered round and round in his brain. He kept seeing her face, his mother – no, not his mother – Edie’s face, wounded and desperate as he pulled away from her, and he felt some satisfaction in giving her pain in those moments, feeling as he did, so hurt and bewildered himself. When no one could see, he beat his fists against his chest like King Kong, trying at once to release and hurt himself.

  David often felt he was near to exploding these days. He couldn’t understand his own moods. Sometimes he was full of ecstatic happiness, laughing with his friends, seeing or reading about things which interested him, or even sometimes just staring for hours out of the window. But there was also the sudden feeling of anger as if he might burst open with it, the upset and cringing embarrassment he felt at times. It was worst when that stupid Marleen kept looking at him with her cow eyes. They’d played together as children of course, but now he could always sense her watching him when the families were together, or sidling up to him, and he would take refuge behind a book, or leave the room. But this now was something far more extreme. In a few words his mother – no, not mother – had turned the basic things he thought he knew about himself upside down. It was as if the world was spinning and, dizzy and sick, he couldn’t stop it.

  He climbed up and up. The path was quiet. Most people were enjoying the beach and the rest who came up here did so in order to ride the railway and reach the Camera Obscura at the top. But he didn’t want any of that, the people or entertainments. He soon reached the top and joined the cliff path. At last he found a solitary spot, tucked between two bushes of bright yellow, sweet-smelling broom and flung himself down. It was only then that the glory of the scene burst in on him and he sat panting, looking out, forgetting his confusion for a second. In front of him spread the blue expanse of Cardigan Bay, the line of the coast brown and crinkled against it, like elephant hide. Frances had said you could see Snowdon from up here. He looked round and could indeed see mountains in the distance, against the powdery blue of the sky.

  He lay back in the prickly undergrowth and looked up at the leaves and sky, hearing the blood pulsing through his sweating body.

  I am a foundling. A little calmer now, he thought over what Edie had said. It was as if a whole collection of tiny details and incidents began to fall into place. Things he had never questioned swirled round in his mind. Chief among them was a sense of being different. He had always thought that was because he had turned out to be brainy and g
one on to the grammar school. People remarked on that – it separated you. But that would have been the same if Edie really was his mother, wouldn’t it?

  But there were the other things he began to wonder about. Was that why Grandad Dennis had never shown any interest in him? Barely a word to him? He just thought that was how the old man was. But perhaps it was because he was not really his grandson. Why did they live with Frances? And why . . .? He sat up abruptly as something more solid than the odd look or remark clanged to his attention. That first day he had come home and cried after the boys teased him about his circumcision, he had seen real shock on Edie’s face. At the time he thought she was startled and upset by the teasing, the boys’ nasty behaviour, but of course it was far more than that. She hadn’t been the one who’d had him circumcised . . . Something so private, so intimate about her child, yet she had barely been able to think of an answer to give him. And they all must have known she wasn’t his real mother – Frances, Dr Ferris, Janet – all the people who surrounded him. Another wave of fury passed through him, a kind of frustration at being cheated of something, and suddenly he was sobbing, tears running down his cheeks. He sat curled tightly, hugging his knees. The crying began to drain some of the tension out of him, and after a time, unable to think any more, he lay down, curled on his side, exhausted and drowsy.

  When he woke the air was cooler. He sat up and looked around, his left ribs hurting from pressing against the ground. The evening was very beautiful, the sea a rich sapphire tinged with purple, the bowl of the sky pale blue and gold as the sun went down. The sounds seemed to have changed, distant voices carrying differently in the late afternoon.

  David stood up stiffly. He felt muzzy and his thigh and calf muscles were stiff, but he was calmer. It felt, for the moment, as if he had dreamt the last few hours and all was as normal. He could go back, have dinner with Frances and his mother, forget all that had happened.

  But as he began to scramble back down the hill, the awkwardness returned. How could he be with her? How was he supposed to behave now? He loved her, of course. She had brought him up as her child, had always been kind to him. But he no longer knew how to feel. He was a cuckoo in the nest. Nothing could be the same again.

  He went into the guesthouse and crept up the dark stairs to his room. He could hear that Edie and Frances were next door, talking in low voices. They’d be worried. They didn’t know where he’d gone. Well, hard luck, he thought, lashing out again. But when he got to the door of his room he turned back and steeling himself, tapped on their door.

  Edie had obviously been crying, and he saw how worried Frances looked as well. They stood quite still as he came round the door, as if frightened of him, of what he might say.

  ‘I’m back,’ he said, tersely. Then he went to his own room.

  Thirty-Seven

  ‘Marleen – come ’ere, your bow’s not straight,’ Ruby hissed.

  She and the girls were standing outside Frances’s gate in Linden Road, decked out in some of their new finery from America, and she wanted them all to look perfect. Marleen tutted and stood with her head pertly on one side as Ruby fussed with the scarlet bow fastened round her swinging ponytail. Marleen and Greta were dressed in identical frocks, brilliant white with red polka dots and full, swirling skirts. Ruby’s own outfit was similarly bold, bright green leaves on a yellow background with a drawstring neck and sleeves.

  ‘Right – that’s better. Now keep yourselves clean.’

  She pressed the doorbell, waiting in anticipation. What news she had to tell! She looked proudly at her girls. At least she could show she could do something right. She always felt like the one who’d been trouble, when Edie lived a quiet, mousey life and had everyone’s approval. Now she was going to show she could come up trumps!

  The door flew open and Edie’s beaming face appeared. Ruby took in that she’d changed her hair. For years she’d worn it long, tying it back for work, sometimes coiling it, plaited, round her head. But now she had had it cut and it hung, waving prettily round her face.

  ‘Ruby! Oh my word, look at you all! Oh, we’ve missed you!’

  ‘We’ve only been gone a fortnight,’ Ruby laughed as the two of them hugged.

  ‘But it felt longer! Come on in and see Frances.’

  Ruby was gratified by Edie’s excitement. She felt very worldly, now she’d crossed the Atlantic. As soon as she and the girls trooped in, David made for the stairs.

  ‘’Ello Davey!’ Ruby called to him. He smiled back shyly as he moved away, ignoring Marleen’s pert, ‘Where’re you off to?’

  Frances greeted them warmly, and Edie brought tea through to the sitting-room at the back. The window was open and bright oblongs of sunlight lit up the crimsons and blues of the old turkey rug. Frances sat in her chair near the window, a white, crocheted shawl over her frock, listening intently to Ruby’s news while Edie poured tea and fussed round the girls, giving them cake and offering them the old Ludo board to keep them occupied. Marleen looked disdainfully at it, and said, ‘In America, everything’s new.’

  ‘Don’t be rude, Marl,’ Ruby said.

  ‘Lucky old America,’ Edie said, ignoring Marleen’s tone. Greta, who was more placid, with a broad, blue-eyed face very like Wally’s, got the board out and set it up. Marleen rolled her eyes, but settled down to play, even if the game was babyish.

  ‘So you got back last night, did you?’ Edie sat down with her tea. ‘Seen your mom yet?’

  ‘Yes – she came round this morning. No stopping her.’ Ruby looked round at everyone and sat up very straight, unable to contain the news any longer. ‘Oh, I’ve got so much to tell you! But I’ve got to say it – guess what?’

  Edie grinned. ‘Go on – what?’

  Ruby watched their faces. ‘I’m engaged. I’m going to get married and we – the girls and me – we’re going to live in America!’

  She was gratified by the explosive effect of this announcement. Edie cried, ‘No! You’re having us on!’ and even Frances almost dropped her teacup.

  There was no stopping her then. All the news poured out. How good Ed and Louisa Sorenson had been to her, so hospitable and generous. They adored Greta, who was their only grandchild, but they’d been very good to Marleen and treated her equally well. Their store on one of the main streets of St Paul was flourishing and instead of living over it they now had a nice big house in the suburbs, which was where Ruby had been introduced to a neighbour, Carl Christie.

  ‘He’s an ex-serviceman, like Wally. He fought in the Pacific. And he’s so handsome and kind. He’s got a good business selling parts for farm machinery – doing well with it.’

  ‘Has he never married?’ Frances asked, struggling to keep up with all this.

  Ruby saw her doubtful expression. Why did people always have to think the worst and look for snags? She so wanted them to be pleased and impressed.

  ‘He was,’ she said. ‘But he said the war drove them apart and his wife left him – five years ago. She’s gone to live in Minneapolis or Duluth or somewhere.’ She enjoyed dropping the names of places in. She was a woman of the world, familiar with America – it was going to be her home!

  ‘Oh, Rube,’ Edie looked dismayed. ‘It’s all a bit sudden, isn’t it? Are you sure about him?’

  ‘Course I’m sure,’ Ruby laughed. ‘I wouldn’t be marrying him if I wasn’t, would I?’ He was nice-looking and had a good living and it meant they could live in America, that was the main thing. And he’d learn to get on with the girls in time. These things always took a while to settle down. It was going to be marvellous – a whole new life!

  She talked and talked about the Sorensons’ shop, the clothes they’d given them, the trips they’d made in Ed Sorenson’s big Buick, once as far as Lake Superior, with Canada just across the other side, and how she’d been to church with them and Carl and they were Presbyterians.

  ‘But you never go to church!’ Edie laughed incredulously.

  ‘Well, I do now,’ Ruby retorted
. ‘They were all very nice to me and the girls. Some of the families even invited us for tea. Americans are so hospitable.’

  ‘And what do you think of it all, girls?’ Frances turned to Marleen and Greta, who had given up pretending to play Ludo and were sitting listening. ‘Carl Christie – that’s the name, isn’t it? He’ll be your new father.’

  Greta said, ‘It’ll be nice to live near my Grandy and Grandma,’ and Marleen made a face but nodded resignedly. ‘Well – if it means we can live in America.’

  ‘It won’t be all trips and new frocks all the time,’ Frances pointed out gently. ‘That’s only on special holidays.’

  ‘But we’ll have holidays, won’t we!’ Ruby laughed, stroking Greta’s fair hair. ‘We’ll have to learn to call them vacations like they do over there! Carl says we’ll soon all be talking with proper American accents!’

  She chattered on, bringing, as she saw it, a new world to Frances’s hearth, to liven her and Edie up a bit. Bournville suddenly seemed so cramped and dull. You could almost fit Frances’s house into the Sorensons’ living-room! She and the girls left in a flurry of colour and excitement, saying that the plan was that as soon as she could make the arrangements she would be leaving and would marry Carl in St Paul. They’d be American citizens. She remembered just as she left to tell Edie she liked her new hairstyle and to ask after Janet.

  ‘Well, in the last letter she said she hadn’t been too well . . .’ Frances began. But Ruby wasn’t listening, she’d just noticed that Greta had dropped a blob of jam from the cake down her new skirt.

  The three of them stepped out into the warm afternoon and waved goodbye.

  ‘Come on, girls,’ Ruby said, triumphantly. ‘We shan’t be living in our poky little house much longer, shall we?’

  The next few weeks were full of unease for Edie. She felt as if her life was like a table and someone was sawing the legs off one by one until the whole thing was in danger of collapse. Ruby’s announcement had dismayed both her and Frances, though all Frances said by way of comment when they left was, ‘Dear, oh dear. She’s such a hasty one.’